


Corazon

by Emono



Series: Saw AU [4]
Category: Band of Brothers, The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drama & Romance, Drug Use, M/M, Mild Smut, Minor Character Death, Saw AU, Survival Horror, Worst summary ever but I'm tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-11-28 15:33:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11420940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emono/pseuds/Emono
Summary: George is a CI for the FBI and is sleeping with his connection, Special Agent Joe Toye. They’re using one another but not in the way you think. They both crave love, acceptance, the touch of one another. But Joe struggles with his past choices and his commitment to his job, to God, and what he feels for George scares the living hell out of him. Jigsaw has been testing all those around him and now it’s his turn. But he isn’t alone in his game.Joe will have to confess his darkest secrets and confront of the shadows of his past to save the man he loves.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Toye IRL wasn't Puerto Rican but his actor in BoB was and I've meshed him with a bit of Miguel Alvarez so it turned out like this

George rolled onto his back with a satisfied groan. He loved the soreness that came from a good fuck. His muscles felt loose and everything was tingling between his thighs. The itch of withdrawal was still under his skin but it felt better after an orgasm. Especially getting it from Joe. _Damn_ , that man knew how to fuck. This time had been especially good without any coke lingering in his system. He’d been able to feel everything in its entirety.

 

Joe had taken his time tonight and George felt all of that devotion down to his bones. Joe had moved slow and deep, grinding over that sweet spot inside him until he felt swollen from the inside out. The man’s mouth had parted over his skin in prayer and left worshipful, bruising blessings across his skin. He closed his eyes and he could still remember how Joe had suckled kisses over his throat and down to the soft of his thighs. He was covered in the man’s touch, marked with his cum. It was proof of their ‘relationship’ or whatever they called it.

 

When George could bring himself to move again he turned to cuddle into Joe’s chest. The man slid right out from beneath him and he hit the mattress with a grunt. Put out, he frowned at Joe as the man started to get redressed.

 

“Come back,” George tried to entice, stretching and tucking the edge of the pillow under his head. Joe chuckled and flashed him a smile as he did up his fly. It made George’s heart flutter but the bed still felt cold without him. “You didn’t even let me clean you up.”

  
  
Joe’s eyes fell shut and his hands stuttered over his buttons as he thought of the criminal’s agile tongue working over his wet cock. “You are filthy, you know that?”

 

“I try.” He reached out but couldn’t quite touch him. “Come on, Joe. Where do you gotta run off to?”

 

Joe slipped on his undershirt before pulling on his button-up. “I’ve got paperwork to catch up on and an early shift tomorrow. You know how it is.”

 

George prickled all over. “Yeah, I know how it is.”

 

“Ah, Georgie,” Joe began in that low rumble of his, the kind that made George’s insides melt. He steeled himself against it.

 

“So you’re just going to up and leave?” George sneered. “You wanna pay me too like I’m a fucking whore? “

 

“Don’t say that shit about yourself,” Joe shot back, fingers easily slipping in the buttons. “And don’t get all worked up.”

 

“You come here, you fuck me, and that’s it,” George accused, sitting up and glaring at the other. “That’s fucking shitty and you know it.”

 

“Wasn’t it good?” Joe crooned as he slid a knee between the man’s legs and drew closer. He peppered light kisses along his cheek and they started to linger as they slid along his jaw. George’s breath caught and the bedroom disappeared as his lashes fluttered shut. Those full lips against his skin were like heaven. “Hm? You seemed so happy a few minutes ago. You always sound so fucking sexy when I make you come.”

 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” George husked.

 

“Work.” The hated word was grunted against his pulse but he didn’t give up.

 

“Tomorrow night?” he offered, hearing the edge of desperation in his own tone. “Maybe I can come over?”

 

“You know the rules, Georgie,” Joe hummed, warm and solid above him. “You can’t come to my place. It’s too dangerous. If anyone found out I’d lose my job. You’re a CI. _My_ CI.” There was a possessive note there matched with a scrape of teeth that sent goosebumps all across George’s chest. “It’s bad enough I’m coming to your place at all.”

 

“Just...stay?” George pleaded quietly. “Please? Just this once, just tonight.”

 

It was a lie. He’d sweet talked Joe into staying the night plenty of times and this would be far from the last. He tried to steal a kiss but Joe was faster, stronger. He moaned shamelessly as Joe pinned him to the bed and covered him. George’s skin lit up where the man’s half suit brushed it.

 

“ _Mi amado_ ,” Joe cooed in his ear, all gravel over silk. It was the voice he heard in his dreams, the one that raised him from the worst of the nightmares. Kisses were peppered all over his throat and he arched into them. He lost a bit of himself every time that gorgeous, damnable mouth touched his skin. “So sweet for me, _corazon_. So fucking pretty.”  
  
  
  
George shuddered against the bed. That name always gutted him and left him pleading for more. _Heart_. He’d looked it up. It was the little nickname Joe murmured in his ear during their quieter, more intimate moments. When all else failed, when he was sure Joe was done with him and he was ready to call it quits, that little word dragged him back. He went lax and then the warmth of his lover was gone. George whined and reached for him but there was just dead air.

 

“I’ll call you,” Joe promised, almost completely dressed and heading out of the room. “Eat something, will you? You worry me. And don’t put anything up that cute little nose while I’m gone.”

 

George contained his whine until he heard the front door latch. His phone buzzed and he knew it was Joe telling him to lock up properly. There was a small comfort in that.

 

George tried to be strong. He fought the nagging voice in the back of his mind with every drop of resolve he had. He could admit in the dead silence of his bedroom that he was paranoid about Joe fucking his other CIs like this. Or worse, a beautiful girlfriend who he could be with in public. Joe was an FBI Special Agent, revered and awarded in the community. George wasn’t stupid, he knew he was just some fucking junkie and they couldn’t be public but _still_. The asshole could at least spend the night without him having to beg.

 

He kept trying to get clean for Joe. He’d tried rehab twice and once on his own cold turkey. It seemed like every time he managed to get clean Joe would put distance between them like this. When George was coked up or strung out Joe would stay the night without so much as a pleading look. He’d get to lay around while Joe brought him food, pet his hair, massaged his back...did all the sweet things a boyfriend could do. It was a nice little fantasy that popped whenever he told Joe he was going sober.

 

Nights like this one made him feel like a whore, a hole for Joe to relieve his stress. Every time he ran off like this he felt useless.

 

Earlier it had felt so good. When they were kissing and shedding each other’s clothes, laughing into each other’s mouths as their fingers fumbled on buttons. It had felt like they had something. And when Joe wasn’t rushing out of there they talked. They would lounge around, smoke and eat and talk about their lives. They’d joke around, tease each other. It was _real_.

 

It had had started out as purely visceral fucking on both sides. From the moment their paths crossed there had been a raw, animal magnetism. A natural chemistry. But as time went on George found himself falling in love with those quiet smiles and those dark eyes. In his weaker moments he liked to think Joe was feeling the same.

 

As usual, George had actively tried to stay sober and Joe had started his disappearing act. Every time the man bolted on him it made it that much harder not to turn back to coke. All he could think about was how Joe nursed him through the worst of the lows. Joe treated him sweet when they were together but there was a reverent gentleness to him when George was suffering through withdrawal. Joe dabbing his forehead, rubbing his back, holding him through his nightmares...

 

George managed to fight it off for a few hours before he fished his phone out of his discarded jeans. He dialed a too-familiar number with a heavy heart.

 

“ _Liebgott_ ,” a voice grunted over the line.

  
  
George swallowed around the thick lump of his shame. “I need a favor.”

 

“ _It’s going to cost you._ ”

  
  
Lieb was such a bastard but his mind was too loud and his skin was itching. “Whatever you want.”

 

“ _Our usual agreement._ ”

  
  
“No. No way.” It was a token protest and they both knew it.

  
  
“ _Stay there_ ,” Lieb ordered. The man’s voice became fainter like he was leaning away from the phone. “ _Web! Baby? You done yet?_ ” There were a few beats of silence before Lieb’s voice returned to full strength. “ _You suck me off and get your blow, and Toye never knows. And he’ll keep not knowing if you be good and do what I tell you._ ”

  
  
George threw an arm over his eyes and bit back a sigh. It wasn’t like Lieb was ugly or it was particularly repulsive going down on him. He’d been reduced to much worse in his life. At least Lieb didn’t punch him in the face afterward like one of his old tricks used to. Hell, in comparison to George’s last boyfriend, Lieb treated him pretty decent. Not that Lieb was his fucking boyfriend or anything he just wasn’t Joe. George was loyal to Joe, the man was all he wanted, and fooling around with anyone else felt wrong. Especially fooling around for coke. “Come on, man, I’ll do anything, just...not that. Please? I’m trying to get it right with Joe again.”

  
  
“ _If you were really trying to make it right with him, you wouldn’t be calling in the first place._ ” It was the truth but it still hurt.

  
  
“Fine! Fucking fine.”

  
  
“ _Not tonight, I’m busy. Tomorrow. Your place._ ”

  
  
“Sure.” George hung up and tossed down the phone. He was so fucked up. Sucking off Joe’s old partner for drugs and blackmail? No wonder Joe didn’t want him. What was inside him even worth loving at this point?

 

It was going to be a long night.

 

o0o

 

Lieb stormed out of his apartment after breaking his lamp but he couldn’t give a fuck.

 

George continued to fight tooth and nail against his addiction after it had been freely offered. Well, not free. Lieb’s offer was sound and cool. It was what it was. No tricks, just blatant bribery that he could deny anytime. A part of him said that Joe would understand if he explained it and he could free himself of this cycle.

 

The other terrified part of him won out and he cut out a line of white.

 

o0o

 

Joe saw that George had texted him two more times since he went into his meeting with the Police Chief. He sat in his car and ran his thumb over the screen almost reverently. God, he missed George. It had only been a week and he felt the man’s absence like a physical ache. He missed that fluffy hair between his fingers and that clever mouth against his own. He missed his laugh.

 

Joe thunked his head against the car seat and sighed at how sappy he was getting. He needed George to need him, as Cheap Trick would say. Maybe it sounded stupid like that but it didn’t change the deep longing buried in his gut. Words like _love_ and _crave_ and _need_ scared him and it was so much easier to act on those feelings when he could just take care of George in the basic sense. He could nurse George back to health without admitting that his heart had gotten involved along the way. Every time he dabbed a cool cloth across his forehead or tipped water between his parched lips felt like a silent confession.

 

Joe wrote a love poem with his fingers every time he rubbed George’s shoulders.

 

He’d never let it get this far with other CIs in the past. He’d only fucked them for the convenience and the backup blackmail in case they tried to get out of their contract. They were always consensual and enthusiastic partners who he got to take care of when they were strung out. He was used to them ‘falling in love’ with him in those weaker moments. He fed off it. They were usually so attached that he rarely had to pull out the pictures or videos to make them keep their word. With every CI he’d ever taken to bed, their illicit affairs ended once they got clean. Without the drugs wearing them down they didn’t need him anymore.

 

He wanted George to keep needing him. He couldn’t let him go, not yet. He wasn’t ready. He wanted more than that though. Joe wanted the dinner dates, the mandatory and amusingly embarrassing couple outing at the office Christmas party, the long walks, the trips to the beach. The boring, regular couple things that everyone else seemed to get so easily. He wanted George to freely come and go from Joe’s own apartment. _No_ , he wanted George to move in. He wanted his place to get cluttered up with George’s giant movie collection and get the dog he said he always wanted. Share a kitchen, a bed, make love in front of a fireplace on a cold winter night…

 

First he’d have to get a fireplace.

 

But those daydreams would stay a carefully guarded fantasy. He’d fucked everything up from the start. Instead of asking George out on a date he’d made him a CI, put him on the payroll, and now whatever kind of relationship they had was illegal. Whatever they did would have to stay under wraps. It was too late to change that. So Joe was going to take whatever he could get and if that meant nudging George towards coke to keep him needy then so be it.

 

A part of him was hopeful. If George sobered up maybe they could make a real go of it, sever his ties as a CI and try to carve out a life together. _Or maybe he gets sober and realizes what a disgusting, selfish user you are and leaves your ass like you deserve._

 

Joe’s phone chimed with a new text and voicemail. The text was a keyboard mash of illegible letters from George’s number. If he had any doubts George was using again they were trampled when we listened to the slurring, hiccuping voicemail that mostly consisted of his own name.

 

_Thank fuck. Don’t worry, Georgie, I’m coming._

 

o0o

 

George kept the high going until he’d licked the bag clean. He wasn’t sure how long it was later but eventually Joe found him like that. Spread out on his bed, high out of his mind, dehydrated, and hungry beyond belief. He couldn’t surface long enough to say anything coherent but he could feel Joe’s rough palms gliding along his sides and feel the line of chaste kisses along his scruffy cheeks.

 

“Joe,” he whimpered, weak fingers trying to catch in the man’s jacket.

 

“I’m here.” The promise was branded across his mouth, sealed with a kiss. “I’ve got you. Just relax, Georgie. You’re going to be okay. My poor boy.” Strong fingers carded through his hair and he let his head fall back in a weak nuzzle. “You’ll be okay.”

 

“Need you,” George heard himself whisper. “Joe, need…”

 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

 

And he didn’t. George came back to himself one bit at a time with Joe’s help. The man helped him bathe and eat. He brought him water, kept him warm, and rubbed him down until he was boneless putty in his lap. He’d brought some of his own clothes from home and wrapped George in them like a protective blanket. The boxers were soft around his hips and the collar of the shirt gaped comfortably at his throat giving Joe plenty of room to nibble.

 

That word kept drifting into his ear. _Corazon._ It was such a sweet croon and it lulled him to sleep.

 

George groaned and barely managed to surface long enough to retain where he was. He was out in his living room on the couch with a hoodie that wasn’t his tucked around him and in a pair of sweats that puddled around his feet. Fingers were in his hair and he wanted to purr at their reassuring strength.

 

“George.” His name was said in that beautiful husk that tickled his nerves and made his fingers tingle. He couldn’t quite lift his heavy head but he could feel the thigh beneath it. Joe, and in a different pair of sweats all casual. “Are you with me? You starting to feel hungry at all?”

 

He tried to tell him no but his throat was dry and he wasn’t sure how long he could keep his eyes open.

 

“Don’t worry, baby,” Joe murmured as he thumbed along his hairline. “I’ll get you some water in a minute and then we’ll work on food. You just rest.”

 

Joe was here. He was here and dressed down and probably taking time off work. And why? For George-fucking-Luz. He felt over the moon and the excited spike of his heartbeat cast him into a low that made him fall right back to sleep. But he knew he was safe. Where in the world could be better than under Joe’s hands?

 

o0o0o0o

 

It had been almost two weeks since he’d seen Joe for more than a few minutes and it was wearing on him. When George had woken up from his last binge he’d sworn up and down that he was off the stuff for good, that he was sorry. He’d babbled about how Joe didn’t need to waste time taking care of him and that he’d prove to him that he was worth all the effort.

 

George had thought this time would be different and he was a fool for doing so. Joe still returned his texts but he just said that he was busy, that he couldn’t get away from work, that this new case was taking up all his time and putting him out of the city. He wanted to believe Joe but the pattern was the same.

 

He brought his knees up and pressed his face against them. He’d run the bath as hot as he could stand it and decided to soak while he sulked. He’d missed the electric bill due date again and was thankful for a gas water heater as he lit candles. The light flickered off the sudsy water and it added to his maudlin scene. He was trying not to cry as his phone stubbornly remained silent. He’d called Joe three times to try and get him to come over but the man had just said he was busy. He’d offered the man anything he wanted but there had been no return. Not even a text.

 

George groaned and stretched out again. He let his arms fall over the sides of the tub and tipped his head back, cushioned from the porcelain by a washcloth. He felt so fucking alone without Joe. Maybe that was pathetic but it was what it was. Joe felt like one of the few good things in his life. Not this hot and cold bullshit but the real moments, the ones where he could taste the love between them in every kiss. He loves Joe, he knows he does, and sometimes he hated himself for it when it led to moments like these. He hoped he was important to Joe. He was almost sure he was but it was hard to tell between the drugs and the detox. Joe was a grounding presence and he made him want to be better but he wasn’t helping him stay clean.

 

George wasn’t stupid. He knew trying to clean up alone would end in disaster. He needed support and his family was long gone. And by God, if he didn’t mean anything to Joe then he needed to know _now_ so he could cut him loose. It pained him to even think of Joe out of his life but he wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up. Being a CI meant he had to spend all his nights on the street with his ear to the ground. He couldn’t escape the drug circles when it was his job to be there.

 

George didn’t realize how zoned out he was until he heard a noise from down the hall. It took him a while to shake off the haze and sit up but he still couldn’t see anything when he tried to look out into the hall. He’d lit a couple candles throughout the apartment so he could see the faint glow from the kitchen, the living room, his bedroom, but not much else.

 

“Joe?” George called hopelessly. He knew it couldn’t be him but at least no one was around to hear how pathetic he was. He wiped the water from his eyes and blinked into the shadows but there wasn’t a trace of movement. It was probably just the old apartment with its loose floorboards and piss poor insulation.  

 

Once the water went cold he got up and toweled himself off. He slipped on the sweats Joe had left him and one of the man’s old muscle shirts. He could still smell Joe’s cologne on the fabric and it soothed some of his raw nerves. He picked up his toothbrush but froze when he heard another noise.

 

George crept down the hall and looked around but didn’t see anything off. His window was open but he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he ate never mind when or if he opened the damn window. The wind had picked up outside and it fluttered the curtains. A couple of the candles had snuffed out but otherwise there was nothing. A wild animal could’ve gotten itself into his grimy apartment for all he knew.

 

“Christ,” George sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m hearing shit now. Fuck, I gotta get clean if it’s fucking with my head like this.”

 

o0o

 

Joe pulled his coat tighter around him as he stepped out of the police station. His fingers itched for a smoke but he’d wait until he got to his car. The air held a promise of frost, maybe even snow if the clouds clumped up anymore than they were. He cast a lingering glance back through the glass doors before he started down the steps toward the parking lot.

 

There was no word of Lieb or his boyfriend. No sign of Shelton. Not a partial fingerprint, a strand of hair, a drop of blood, _nothing_. It had been a week with no word at all. Lipton and his husband were as safe as Joe could make them and they hadn’t received so much as a scratch on their door. Ron had expressed his concern that Jigsaw would come back but it seemed he was leaving them alone for now.

 

Hoosier had confessed to him that he’d been threatened. Someone had been listening to him and Lieb’s conversations and had sent a note to prove it. What they were discussing Hoosier wouldn’t say but Joe could guess. He knew those two were dirty in their own ways and Lieb was dragging his friend into deeper waters. He’d done everything he could to cover their tracks and keep eyes averted when they got sloppy. The two were tight and were pretty damn good at sneaking but the FBI was hard to trick unless you had a man on the inside.

 

Since Lieb started going rogue, Joe had been that silent inside man.

 

Joe had tried so hard to reach out to Lieb to try and fix what had broken between them the day of his promotion. But Lieb refused him at every turn. Doors were slammed in his face, calls ignored, texts unseen. Nothing got past that man’s anger and it frustrated Joe to all hell. Lieb had been his partner and best friend for years and a rough few months had destroyed all that. Lieb was a fucking bastard and a hothead but the hurt must’ve run deep for him to push this hard for this long. But Joe hadn’t given up yet.

 

He was going to find Lieb and he was going to fix their fucked up friendship if it was the last thing he did.

 

Joe pulled his phone out when he felt it vibrate. It was a text from George.

 

**Something’s wrong. I need you.**

 

Simple and clean but it struck Joe down to the core. He’d grit his teeth and kept away from George for two weeks. George had promised to stop using and it had triggered all those old feelings of rejection. The man had been reaching out to him and he’d been selfishly keeping quiet. He was being a bastard and he knew he needed to change. But that could wait because his Georgie needed him right now.

 

With Jigsaw lashing out at law enforcement, that text was enough to get his feet moving.

 

Joe threw himself into his car and slammed the door, cursing when he fumbled his keys. He reached down blindly and snatched them off the floor before finally jamming the right key into the ignition. The engine came to life and he missed the slight movement in the backseat. His phone went off again and he was quick to unlock it.

 

**Strange how this is the text you react to**

 

“What the fuck?” Joe muttered, frowning down at the screen. He went to text George back but he’d hardly tapped out a few letters before he felt the pinprick his neck. He hissed and jerked forward, touched the spot, but already his vision was swimming. He lurched forward and nearly knocked his head off the steering wheel. “ _Shit_.”

  
“Be careful, Special Agent,” he heard someone behind him scold. “I don't want you hurt before we even begin.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH!! GUYS!! You're so sweet with your comments and feedback. I am forever appreciative and it's fueling me to write like a madman. I really hope you guys continue to enjoy this and I'm always eager to hear your thoughts. I'm just over the moon by the response. Thankuthanku

_Joe had only been a Special Agent for a month before he had to chase someone down on foot. He didn’t have an assigned partner yet but he wasn’t exactly a greenhorn so he’d been sent alone to do a follow up interview with a few key witnesses. His only job was to make sure they were ready to show up for trial and to see if they had received any threats. It seemed like a simple assignment until George Luz ran on him._

 

_Joe chased the lithe drug peddler down the block and his new, impractical shoes clapped clumsily when they hit concrete. He was a fit guy who was used to getting his hands dirty but he hadn’t expected a hands-on assignment like this. He closed the distance when they turned down a narrow alley that led to the street where he’d parked his car._

 

 _Joe seized the dealer by the back of his shirt once they emerged onto the half-abandoned one way street. He tossed the kid over the hood of his car and threw his weight on him, pulling out his handcuffs. “You want to run, Luz? Fine. We could’ve had a nice friendly chat and you would’ve slept in your bed tonight. Now?”_  
  
  
  
_“Now I’m gonna’ sleep in yours, officer?” George tempted._

 

_Joe felt his ears burn as he snicked the handcuffs on. George had been openly flirting with him since he came into the man’s apartment. George had hung out by the open window the whole time they’d spoken with his hips cocked out and his head resting against the windowpane to show off the curve of his throat. Joe had tried to kill the mood by asking the man if he was high (those blown out eyes gave him away). Joe had done his best to keep things professional but between watching George’s cheek hollow around a cigarette and adjusting himself in his pants, he lost track of the dealer. George had darted out the window and down the fire escape before escaping on the street._

_  
  
_ _And now...now he was grinding his ass into his lap. Joe had to admit it was a great ass. Firm, round, and it curved perfectly into his groin like the man had been built to bounce on his dick. The high little fucker was rubbing against him without an ounce of shame and he hated how all his blood rushed south. George was quick so he had to hold tight but that only left the man plenty of room to grind on him in a punishing rhythm that had him a little dizzy._

 

_“It’s ‘Special Agent’ and no, you’re - shit,” Joe cursed, flushing as he held on for dear life. “You’re spending the night in a cell.”_

 

_“Only if you have the key,” George moaned, digging his heels in for leverage. “I’d never fuck a cop but for you I’ll make an exception.”_

 

_“Shut up,” Joe demanded as a he grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair. He had intended to drag him into the car but that hair was so fucking soft. He softened his touch and carded his fingers through it. Oh yes, soft and thick, brushing his palm like a kiss. George made a sickly sweet mewling noise and he could feel his resolve crack. He pushed George over the car and ground his hips against him. The dealer writhed against the warm metal and canted his hips, spreading his thighs so they fit seamlessly. Joe rut himself helplessly against the man and all thoughts of ‘wrong’ flew out of his head and replaced with just how fuckable this dealer was._

 

_Doe eyes, smart mouth, soft tummy, plush thighs that surely led to fat cheeks he could spank a cherry red..._

 

_“Go on, fuck me,” George whined, breathy and perfect and hitting all the right buttons to make his cock twitch. “I won’t tell.”_

 

_Somehow, Joe managed to grit his teeth and shove the dealer in the car. “Nice try, Mr. Luz.”_

 

o0o0o0o

 

Joe woke up with a painful start between breaths. He thrashed in the dark but didn’t make it far. There was something on him - metal cuffs, straps, he was pinned in place. His head swam violently as he tried to yank his hands free but there was no yield. He instinctively yelled for help but got caught up in a cough. His throat was dry and he swore he could taste blood on the back of his tongue. He was propped up, somehow standing up, and it was unsettling.

 

How did he get here? Who could’ve done this? There was someone in the back of the car with him and then-

 

“Ah!” Joe hissed as all the lights flipped on at once. His eyes burned and he tried to fight through it but when he opened them again there were spots burned across his vision. He blinked them away and tried to focus on the room but he doubted what his eyes saw. He swore he’d seen this kind of place a dozen times before. Abandoned, filthy, picked bare and boarded up with no sign of life besides a TV screen mounted on the wall across from him.

 

“Ah shit,” Joe cursed as he jolted against the stand he was strapped to. He choked on a fresh wave of pain and looked down. He paled at the sight of metal dipping into his body. It had torn through his shirts and blood blossomed around the obvious wound. He could feel the metal every time he breathed and he swore it was threatening to brush against his ribs. It wasn’t too deep but by the set up around him, the mechanism attached to the hinge and the rattle of the complicated system behind him, he was sure it could rip him apart.

 

He flexed his hands and cried out in shocked agony. His arms were stretched out on either side of him and latched to a metal frame with cuffs. His palms...there were stitches in his palms that hid clean slices. When he tried to make a fist he shuddered as a sting shot up his arm. There was something _inside_ both his palms.

 

The screen flicked on and he scowled as the Jigsaw dummy came into focus. He should’ve known. That bastard, that _fucker_. Had he been the one texting? How had he got ahold of George’s phone? _Please God, not George..._

 

Jigsaw’s voice came hissing through the speakers. _‘Hello, Special Agent Toye. For years now you have saved the broken souls of your criminal informants by warming their beds. To each of them you became their new, private Christ. Unlike Christ, you abandoned your followers once they were no longer useful.’_

 

Joe’s breath stuttered and he felt the metal dig further into his flesh. The endorphins had long ran thin and every time he moved he swore he was going to puncture a lung.

 

‘ _Today you are being given a choice of redemption. Follow the stars. There you will find George Luz - your dirty, most well kept secret. Your newest conquest caught in a cage_.’

 

For a few moments the screen flashed to what looked like an auditorium. There was a glass panel in the floor and within it was a huddled figure. He could make out dark hair and threadbare jeans with the knees torn out. It could’ve been George. It could’ve been anyone.

 

‘ _A place only you can free him from. But be careful, Special Agent. Your instincts will you tell you to do one thing but I implore you to do the opposite._ ’

 

“Fuck you,” Joe hissed, yanking at his hands.

 

‘ _The device you are strapped to is as simple as the game which you are about to play. Inside your hands are the keys you need to save your life. If you play it right, Special Agent, it will not be the only life you save today. When your hands are released, you will have eighty seconds to retrieve those keys and place them in the hinges of the claws that would rip you asunder_.’

 

Joe chewed his lip and studied the crook of where the metal bar met the spike inside him. There was a space for a pin hold of some sort.

 

 _‘If you do not, the breath you take to scream will be your very last.’_ The Jigsaw doll cocked its head at him and he wanted to smash its stupid face in. _‘Live or die. Make your choice.’_

 

A buzzer went off and the cuffs gave. His arms dropped to his sides and he tried to step off the contraption but the spikes were unyielding. He tried to pry them out but the metal stayed. A countdown took the place of the Jigsaw doll on the screen and the seconds were dropping away. There was only one thing hiding and that was a scalpel beneath the crook of one of the arms that was holding the spike inside him on his left side.

 

Joe swallowed heavily and watched the blade gleam in the harsh light. He knew what he had to do. Sucking in a steady breath, Joe lifted his left hand and put the scalpel to the stitches. He gagged at the way flesh gave and sparks of pain shot up to his elbow, making his arm tremble. He shook it out and tried again, wincing and groaning his way through each ‘x’. He plucked them apart and parted the skin, tears building up in his eyes as he fished under his own flesh.

 

Joe pushed everything out of his mind and thought of George. Sweet, trusting George with his wild spirit and his dark soul. Joe pulled out the first pushpin and tried to remember George’s laugh. It was loud and filled up the whole room. He loved it. George was so beautiful when he laughed. He’d toss his head back and his hair would catch the light better than any scalpel. George found himself hilarious and cackled at his own jokes and Joe couldn’t help but laugh along.

 

Joe started slicing open the opposite hand and his fingers struggled against the blood-slick handle. He slipped up twice and cut open his thumb but he couldn’t stop. The timer was running out and he had to focus.

 

 _George_. He needed to think about what he had at stake. How George hogged all the crab rangoon, how he’d quote lines through movies, how he kissed with everything he had and how he begged Joe not to leave when he tried to put distance between them. _I’m coming, Georgie._

Joe’s hands were on fire and they were starting to shake but he clutched the pins like a lifeline. Even wet with his own blood, his fingers held on and obeyed long enough to shove them in the holes in the hinges. They blessedly fit. Joe tilted his head back to the ceiling and prayer spilled silent from his lips. _Lord, have mercy. God our Father in Heaven, have mercy on us. God the Son, Redeemer of the world, have mercy-_

 

Joe gasped wetly as another buzzer went off. The metal arms rattled dangerously but the pins kept them in place. The set up behind him clicked a few times and then went silent. The metal went slack. Joe breathed another prayer for mercy and wrapped his sticky fingers around the metal arms. He lifted in as smooth a motion as he could manage and the spikes slid out.

 

With a roar, he threw himself out of the contraption and landed on one knee. He heard the metal snap back into place and his chest ached. There wasn’t enough blood to be worried and when he poked at the wounds he found them shallow. He’d need stitches but nothing fragile was pierced. That’s not what Jigsaw would’ve wanted. This was a game for a reason.

 

Joe was clutching his bleeding hands to his shirt to stifle the blood flow when the lights shut off. His head whipped around as he looked for a sign of what to do. The game would have breadcrumbs. He found them in the form of glowing green stars painted over one of the doors that had looked boarded up. He felt his way over and when he laid his palms on the beams he found them loose.

 

“Follows the stars,” he muttered under his breath, stepping back and taking off his jacket. He’d use it to pry out the boards and then tear up his vest to wrap his hands. _God Himself couldn’t keep George from me, Jigsaw. I’d like to see you try._

 

o0o0o0o

 

_“Hey Toye.”_

 

_“Cobb,” Joe grunted around the pen between his teeth as he poured over the slew of witness statements spread out on his desk. He’d marked a few of them for reinterview and classifications but so far he was coming up with diddly-shit on his case. Lieb was out getting them some food before they hit the pavement looking for some of these people. With luck they would squeeze a couple new details out of them but he didn’t have a lot of hope. At least they’d have full bellies while they did it. Thank God for Lieb and that deli he knew with the real shredded steak and the dark roast coffee he was addicted to. Bastard never told Joe exactly where it was, said it was his little secret and it wouldn’t be a special lunch if Joe could get it whenever he wanted._

 

_“I pushed through your application.”_

 

_Joe frowned thoughtfully and plucked the pen out of his mouth. “I didn’t apply for anything.”_

 

_“I’m sure you heard about the Feds needing a new agent. They were looking at this precinct,” Cobb replied with a forced, off-handed air as he leaned against Lieb’s desk. “I thought it’d be good for you.”_

 

_“Nah,” Joe grunted, a pressure squeezing in between his ribs as he remembered how excited Lieb was when he talked about applying. “That’s not for me.”_

 

_“I think it’d be good for you,” Cobb insisted._

 

_Joe put down his notebook and couldn’t hide his confusion. “You know Lieb wanted that job, right? I turned in my recommendation for him to the lieu and everything.”_

 

_Cobb shrugged and Joe didn’t trust the look on his face. Cobb had a way of schooling his features into nonchalance that always left a tightness around his eyes. “I think you’re better suited, is all.”_

 

_“I won’t turn it down,” Joe admitted reluctantly. He chewed his lip and thought about the pay and the perks. He’d be working on more high profile cases and he’d get to travel a bit, maybe be a liaison to different police stations. The Feds were never well liked but he could probably sweet talk his way into some connections. He’d never really thought about it seriously before but it was tempting. But he shook it off. “I don’t know, man. It feels weird. Lieb should have it. He’s earned it.”_

 

_“Ah, trust me, he’s going to be happy for you if you get it,” Cobb dismissed with a wave. “Good luck, Toye. You deserve it, buddy.”_

 

_Joe watched him leave with a sour stomach. “Thanks, I guess.”_

 

o0o0o0o

 

Joe managed to tear his vest with his teeth and brute strength. He got it into a few strips that he wrapped around his palms once he found a dirty bulb to cast some light on it. Jigsaw wasn’t giving him much to work with but he could recognize the layout. It was a school but long abandoned, maybe ten years or more judging by the thick layer of grime and dust on everything. As he stumbled along looking for painted green stars he found every window completely barred or boarded up. No doors opened but the ones Jigsaw wanted, no matter how he tossed himself against them.

 

The only path he could take was the one marked for him.

 

o0o0o0o

 

_Joe grunted as he pressed the ice back to his jaw. It throbbed like a heartbeat and he knew it was going to leave an ugly bruise. He poured himself a couple fingers of whiskey and chased down some aspirin. He plopped down on the couch and in the privacy of his own apartment let the facade drop. He’d been keeping face all day and he was exhausted down to his bones. Joe’s mouth pulled in a grimace and he could feel his eyes growing hot. He wouldn’t cry like a bitch but he was hurt in more ways than one._

 

_Eddie, their lieutenant, was a fair but firm man. If Eddie hadn’t been standing right fucking there when it happened then the chaos that had followed could’ve been contained. Getting punched into a wall by his partner was one thing but having Lieb scream at him all the way across the bullpen and nearly knock him out in front of their lieutenant was another. There had been no hiding or laughing off or covering up the spatter of blood on the wall or Lieb’s unadulterated rage._

 

_Joe winced and dropped his head. Lieb hadn’t even let him explain himself. He’d tried, he really had, but Lieb had seemed to make up his mind. He almost couldn’t blame him for blowing up like he had. How many nights had they stayed up, buzzed and full of steak, talking about the future? Lieb had always wanted more with his life. His family was loving and full but they’d come from nothing. His parents still lived hand to mouth and he helped them however they could. He didn’t want to be a detective forever, he wanted to move up in the world. Lieb had confessed to him that the FBI had been a pipe dream of his and he wanted to get himself in there as soon as possible to find a foothold. When Eddie had announced proudly in front of the entire bullpen that Joe had been chosen by the FBI for a promotion, Lieb had lost his mind. Struck him, tossed him into the wall, ready to choke him as he spat venom._

 

_‘You fucking lying piece of shit! All that bull about hoping I got the position and you were gunning for it. Fuck you, Joe!’_

 

_But it had been a couple hours and Lieb still wouldn’t return his calls. He’d keep trying but Joe was starting to take it personally. They’d been friends for years. Partners, buddies, back up plans, last ditch therapists - they had done everything but fallen into bed. Now Lieb wouldn’t even pick up his phone?_

 

_“Fuck me?” Joe muttered into the quiet of his apartment, ice pack digging into sore flesh. “Well fuck you too, Lieb.”_

 

o0o0o0o

 

Joe hesitated when he found a door that gave. This would be his first test and he needed to brace himself. His palms ached horribly and every breath reminded him of the danger he faced. He took a long, steadying breath and pushed. The door snagged on something and he backed off, ready to duck and roll out of a bomb’s way, but instead there was just a click.

 

A tape recorder.

 

 _'Turn away, Special Agent. The man trapped in this room has all the tools he needs to save himself. If you choose to wield them in his stead, there will be consequences. Your stars align elsewhere_.’

 

“Fuck that,” Joe cursed, shifting his weight to kick down the door. He wasn’t afraid of getting hurt. He’d seen enough Jigsaw traps to know what they could do to a person. If someone was in there stuck in one he’d do everything he could to free them. He wouldn’t leave a trail of bodies behind him to get to George. He’d hurt enough people. It ended here. “I’m coming in!”

 

There was some kind of noise inside like metal against concrete. Someone was struggling, pulling. They must have been restrained and possibly gagged.

 

Joe’s foot hit the door just as the person pulled free of their bindings enough to scream out.

  
  
“ _Don’t fucking do it!_ ”


	3. Chapter 3

Joe ran from the room and down the hall, smacking blindly into the walls as he tried to get away from the smell of scorched flesh. He hacked the smoke from his lungs and tried to scrub the image of the burned up man from his eyes. It was one of his first CIs, someone who considered sort of a friend despite how they parted. Walter Gordon. _Smokey_. He’d been an arsonist Joe had trapped mid-act and turned into a CI. They used to fool around and it had been nice while it lasted. Smokey was a big dirty talker and Joe used to love to make him babble.

 

A tape had started to play as Joe had tried to put the man out.

 

‘ _ Hello, Mr. Gordon. An old friend is on his way to save you. Pray he does not open that door for if he does the only chance you have of walking out of here alive will be taken from you. Get through your bindings and warn him if you can. If not, hope his will to save is weaker than your will to live. _ ’

 

And now...now he was just ash and crisp. The whole thing had been a trap. The second he’d opened the door it had triggered some kind of machine that had poured flames into the room. Drenched in gasoline, Smokey had gone up like kindling. 

 

o0o0o0o

 

_ “Mr. Luz. It’s good to see you again.” _

 

_ “I bet, Joe. You sure you don’t wanna’ sit over here on my side?” _ __   
  


_  
“I’m fine right here.” _

 

_ “Yes you are.” _

 

_ Joe had been given the difficult task of interviewing this junkie yet again. The bastard was mouthy and a temptation he was having trouble resisting. Even in prison-issued orange and handcuffs he looked good. Too good. George’s mouth was smart though his pupils were blown. He was probably riding an old high but that didn’t stop his tongue from shooting out sin. Everything Joe asked got twisted into an innuendo and the little bastard kept looking him up and down like he wanted to take a bite. With those gorgeous eyes and that tight little ass, Joe would’ve let him. There was heat in his stare and Joe could feel it under his collar. This was the third time they’d met and each time George got more bold.  _

 

_ Joe was only flesh and blood. He only had so much control. _

 

_ As George sat back in his chair and purposefully spread his legs to make his jumpsuit go tight around his thick thighs, Joe decided God was just going to have to look the other way.  _

 

_ George was firing up another comeback about how they could take this line of questioning somewhere more comfortable, preferably with less clothes, and just when he was about to form some kind of kinky remark about handcuffs the Special Agent got up. George frowned and watched the man leave the room. _

 

_ “Hey!” he yapped indignantly. “What gives, asshole?” _

 

_ Something shifted behind the mirror. It was a subtle tint but he knew what to look for. This wouldn’t be the first time a cop turned off the two-way to beat the shit out of him. Joe returned looking determined, face closed off. The Fed leaned against the wall and almost casually reached above his head to flip off the camera. George’s stomach went tight and not exactly in a pleasant way. He knew he’d pushed too hard too fast. He was just that kind of person. He’d never fucked a cop before and he’d been ready to bounce on this guy’s dick for a free pass but that was looking like a mistake. _

 

_ George winced as the opposite chair was dragged across the room and propped up under the door handle. It curved just right to catch on back of the chair. So Joe had done this before. _

 

_ “You know,” George started, breaking out in a cold sweat as the Fed took off his jacket and laid it on the chair. “You don’t have to do this. I really don’t know anything. You can beat me ‘til I piss blood if that makes you feel better but just know that it says more about you and your anger issues if you do. You really should take some classes, man. Count to ten, breathe deep, feel your diaphragm, chant Britney Spears lyrics - have you tried meditation? I hear it helps.” _

 

_ The last word was yelped as Joe took him by the collar and yanked him to his feet. _

 

_ “Come on, man! I’m just a street guy! I don’t run with a gang for fuck’s sakes. You want me to give up my dealer? Fine! But he’s just a cockroach and won’t have-” George’s teeth clacked as he was slammed into the wall. He clenched his eyes shut and got ready for the beating to come. He flinched when he felt something against his hands and then the cuffs were taken off. “What the fuck?” _

 

_ Joe didn’t want to hear another word or he’d lose his nerve. Once he was sure George could fight back if he didn’t want it, Joe crowded him against the wall and slanted his mouth across his. Those lips were more yielding than he’d expected and gloriously soft under his own. When George started pushing back he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. It was a green light, a flipped switch, and he yanked at the prison uniform. The buttons gave but didn’t fall apart and he let his hands dive inside.  _

 

_ By all the martyrs, George was everything his filthy daydreams had dared to imagine. There was a softness around his tummy and a touch of it at his chest. Slipping beneath the thin undershirt, he caught a puffy nipple between his fingers and felt it harden obediently. Joe let George fuck between his lips as he got a handful of that ass. It felt as good and plush beneath his palm as it had against his hips. He gave it a squeeze and George bucked against him, moaning needily as he rode the adrenaline from the almost-fight. Most of all, he loved how George didn’t hesitate to grab him back. The man’s eager hands groped over his chest and arms, down to his waist, one sneaking around to palm his own ass. It was bold and it got his blood sizzling.  _

 

_ Joe bit hard at George’s lip and they both hissed at the taste of blood.  _

 

_ “This is better than a couple punches,” George panted, grinning ear to ear.  _

 

_ Joe laid a hand on his shoulder with a pointed squeeze. “Down.” _

 

_ And George obeyed. _

 

o0o0o0o

 

George had no idea where he was. He’d woken up to a light far above his head and darkness stretching up on all sides with no clue how he’d gotten there. He remembered his apartment and the bath but not much else. It was a blur. He kept having a vague memory of dark hair and a mouth against his ear but it could’ve been nothing more than a dream. He felt shockingly clear headed. His fingers were twitching and he had a headache but the usual itch of withdrawal had been pushed far to the back of his mind. There was a fresh needle mark on his arm and he knew for a fact he didn’t do it. 

 

What the hell had he been shot up with?

 

There was a thick pane of glass keeping him in the pit. The walls were metal but there was a separation between the wall and the floor. He was sitting on a square of metal that looked like it could be raised up. It was probably the only way out since he couldn’t reach the glass even if he stood and jumped. 

 

After screaming himself hoarse and wearing himself out from scrabbling at the walls, George fit himself in the corner of his small prison and examined the only things with him. The water seemed harmless. It was sealed and labelled without anything floating inside. The other thing was a tackle box of sorts with a lock on a five digit combo wheel. He’d been toying with it for a while but it wouldn’t budge. 

 

George was terrified right down to his bones but there was nothing to do. He’d already freaked out and thrown himself against the walls, called for help, tried to bust open the box, but to no avail. Despair crept in as he kicked it away and drew his knees up to his chest. Where the fuck was he? Who would’ve gone through so much trouble for someone like him?

 

This was planned, elaborate…

 

George swallowed down a whimper when he saw the phrase painted at the bottom of the tool box. The letters were thick and a faint glowing green.

 

**Take Back Your Life**

 

o0o0o0o

 

_ The hardwood dug into his knees. He’d been kneeling so long he was sure there would be spots of blood but they would disappear into his work suit. The air was clogged with at least three waves of incense. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d taken a stance behind the polished oak bar, before the sea of candles lit for lost souls, but it must have been more than an hour. He lost himself in the rhythm of prayer and pleas for salvation and forgiveness. His knuckles ached from the constant count and pass of his rosary. But all that pain was behind him, lost in the sea of his own confusion.  _

 

_ Faith was one of the few pure things he had left and he clung to it desperately.  _

 

_ Joe bleed and ached as he tried to figure out what was wrong with him. He’d fucked George Luz at a police station. He’d spilled inside his smart mouth and then finger fucked him against the wall until he spilled into the cradle of Joe’s palm. He’d kissed the man’s throat as he licked his own seed from his fingers. Not only that, Joe had given the addict his personal number. They’d been texting back and forth for weeks. It was something he’d never done with a CI before. They’d fucked like crazy in between. Usually Joe could write it all off as a slake of physical lust and he could ask forgiveness for that but this felt like more. _

 

_ Now he pleaded for clarity. Joe felt like his heart was wrapped up in this affair, this man. He could feel George all the way down to his bones in a way he hadn’t felt since he was young. He wanted to be near George. Talk to him, have him close, touch his hair and see the curve of his smile. Joe craved George like the addict craved his next eye and it scared him.  _

 

_ Joe prayed to God for answers, to get rid of these unwanted feelings or to tell him what to do with them. He’d never fallen in love with a CI before. He hated to even think it but it was true.  _

 

_ His heart was wrapping around George Luz and he was terrified. _

 

o0o0o0o

 

Joe was more careful when he found the next door. There was no writing, no warnings, nothing to indicate it was a trap like last time. He opened it tentatively and his jaw dropped at what he saw. 

 

“No! Not you! You get the fuck out of here!”

 

It was Don, Don Malarkey. He was Joe’s old in with the Irish gambling ring that had invaded New York. Don had been his first CI to go sour. Don had tried to pull out of the investigation when it had got too hot and Joe’s hand had been forced. The moment he’d revealed that he’d been holding onto a video of Don’s mouth wrapped eagerly around his cock and threatened to send it to his boss, the man had turned understandably cold. Don had cut him off completely, breached his contract, and took the jail time. Joe’s case against the gambling ring had been ruined and he hadn’t seen hair or hide of Don since. 

 

Don blood smeared all over his swollen left eye and there seemed to be a dark incision just beneath it. Some kind of helmet was split open to hang threateningly in front and behind him, a death mask filled to the brim with nails. If it closed it would surely pierce all the way to his skull. The whole thing was strapped to his shoulders and chest and there didn’t seem to be a way to remove it except for several identical locks in key places on the device. His ankles were wrapped in a chain that connected to the floor and there was a mirror stand set up so he could see his face. A tackle box laid just out of reach and with reason. The mask had a steel wire attached to it that fed into a hook on the wall and at the end of that was a weight.

 

“Don,” Joe breathed out, holding up his palms in surrender as the man flinched away from him. “Don’t move. Just look on that wall there. If you yank on that thing it’ll set off the game. Did-”

 

“I fucking know,” Don snarled. “He told me.” He gestured at the TV mounted on a tray across the room. “He showed me what you fucking did to Gordon too.”  
  
  


“That was an accident,” Joe swore, easing closer. “We need to calm down and figure this out. I just want to help.”   
  


  
“I don’t need your help!” Don stepped away and the weight dipped ominously. An ugly scowl twisted his face and Joe knew the man would lash out if he got within striking distance. “None of us do. I don’t know how many other stupid fucks of yours he’s got changed up in here but I’m not dying today, Toye. Not for you.”

 

He spat at Joe’s feet and his glower was piercing. 

 

“Malark, think about this.” 

 

“I don’t need you,” Don hissed. “If you want to help me, Toye, get the fuck out of here.”

 

Joe swallowed thickly but nodded, shuffling back toward the door. “Okay. But be careful. Do exactly what he said. When that pin pulls out you’re not going to have a lot of time to do what he told you. Be careful, Malark. This guy isn’t fucking around.”

 

Don’s lip drew back in a scowl as he glared down at the tackle box that surely held the scalpel he’d need to slice open his eye. “I hope you burn like Gordon did.” His gaze rose and Joe flinched away from the heat there. “Whatever’s at the end of this game for you, I hope it fucking _burns_.”

 

The room was suddenly too humid to take a full breath. Joe rushed out and slammed the door, gulping down air and refusing to look a moment longer. He dropped his head and prayed desperately for it not to be true.  _ Let him be wrong. Father, don’t let him burn George. He’d done nothing. Mercy, please, mercy… _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everybody for the feedback. I really appreciate it

_“What? I’m not a tight enough ass for you, Toye?”_

 

_Joe fiddled uncharacteristically with his wrist cuffs and struggled to meet those too-intense eyes. He hated Snafu’s stare and how deeply it cut through him. “I don’t do it anymore.”_

 

_“You don’t do it no more?” Snafu repeated in slackjawed surprise._

 

_“I’m exclusive now,” Joe bit out firmly, ready to end the conversation and just drop Snafu off with the Marshal’s office for relative good._

 

_“Well I’ll be,” Snafu drawled, overly bored but still with a sharpness in his gaze that had Joe unsettled. “Who’s the lucky gal?”_

 

_Joe tried not to give anything away but his teeth hurt from how tight his jaw was. He tried to keep his eyes on the road, driving steady, but something must have shown._

 

_“Oh. Oh, boo, that’s adorable,” Snafu purred in amusement. “Done went and fell in love with one of your criminals, hm? Naughty.”_

 

_“Shut up.”_

 

_“You better watch it or you’re going to end up no-good like the rest of us,” Snafu tisked with an ugly sneer. “You slum it long enough you’re gonna get dirty.”_

 

_“Yeah?” Joe snapped impatiently, itching to backhand the mouthy CI. “And what about Hoosier? You ready to get your filth all over him, Shelton?”_

 

_Snafu stayed quiet and eventually those eyes slid back out the window in concession. Neither of them were clean and they knew it._

 

o0o0o0o

 

Joe’s throat was dry and he couldn’t quite process what he was seeing at first. Horror dawned fresh on his adrenaline sick mind as he stared through the window at the classroom set up. The walls were plastered with pictures of Merriell Shelton in various compromising positions. Some of him in tucked away places where he shouldn’t be with his computer, talking to people he shouldn’t have known, but others more illicit. He could see himself and Snafu tangled up in motel rooms, standing too close outside police stations, his own hand wandering where it shouldn’t. But most of the photos were unsurprisingly of Hoosier and the CI. Kissing under the relative cover of a tree, different motel rooms as they fucked one another, Hoosier covering Snafu with their mouths fused in deep kisses that looked painfully intimate. They were beautiful together. It was strikingly different than the images of himself and the CI.

 

He could see the back of an old TV set and the prone figure of a man he didn’t recognize. He had the usual sunken look of the cyber criminals Snafu was sent to deal with and he was sprawled on the floor. Whether he was alive or not was anyone’s guess.

 

But Snafu was alive and starting to stir. The man was taped by his wrists to a chair, fingers visibly twitching as weak groans leaked through the glass. The sounds were muffled by more than the room. Snafu had some sort of contraption on his head. It was a fine instrument of metal and gears that arched tight over his head and formed thick lips across his face. It looked like twin bars almost. There was something in the back of it attached to the wall in same kind of weight-and-pulley system that had been on Malarkey’s device.

 

When Snafu raised his head and started to look around Joe realized something. The device wasn’t just clamped around his head but there seemed to be pieces inside his mouth, pressing against his cheeks from within. Snafu seemed to come to the same conclusion after he tried to speak. The device was forcing his jaw closed and was hinged in a way that silenced him.

 

In a way that could silence him forever.

 

‘ _Hello, Merriell._ ’

 

Joe watched Snafu jump as the TV in front of him flipped on. It was pointed away from Joe but the eerie blue light washed over the man, could see how it flickered in those wide eyes. They glistened with unshed tears but Snafu watched, listened, his brief time with the Jigsaw files giving him the only advice Joe had to offer. _Obey_.

 

‘ _You did not get to know me, but I had the pleasure of getting to know you. Your doublecross, your affairs...I know them intimately._ ’ Snafu’s head jerked around as he looked at the pictures on the wall with swelling terror. ‘ _You have given a voice to those who have been silenced while remaining above reproach. Blood has been spilled in the name of your justice._ ’

 

Snafu spotted Joe and started tugging on the tape as best he could.

 

‘ _I want to play a game. Here’s what happens if you lose_.’ The screen flickered and Joe didn’t know what Snafu saw but the man was rightly horrified. ‘ _The device you’re wearing is hooked into your upper and lowers jaw. When the timer in the back goes off, your mouth will be permanently ripped open. Here, I’ll show you_.’

 

Joe could hear something ticking, a clink, and then something firm exploding with a clack of metal on metal. Snafu’s scream was swallowed up by the device but he thrashed against the chair, tears catching in his lashes and spilling down his cheeks. His breaths came in quick, panicked leaps and the tape started to give as he wrenched his arms around.

 

‘ _There is only one key to the device and it lays within your dead cellmate. He did not pass his test. I hope you will not follow in his footsteps. You will see you are not alone._ ’

 

Snafu looked pleadingly to Joe and then at the prone man, hands still flexing against the tape.

 

‘ _To save. To be saved. There are choices to be made. Look, I will only show it once._ ’

 

Joe strained around the window to try and get a glimpse of the TV screen but could not. But Snafu’s eyes rounded out at whatever was there.

 

‘ _Only one of you knows where the key is. Let Special Agent Toye save you and gamble your life in his uncertain hands, or seize it for yourself. I give you the choice to break the chain this man has around your neck. Take back your life, Merriell, or risk it._ ’

 

The TV crackled and shut off. Left in the dim, musty golden bulbs of the classroom Snafu started to truly panic. Skin and hair ripped off as he tried to pry them free.

 

“Shelton.” Joe swallowed dryly as he tried to find his voice again. He wanted to barge in and rip apart that dead man to get the headpiece off Snafu but he found himself hesitating. He remembered Smokey’s agonized face and Malark’s sneer, his biting words. “Do you...want me to help?”

 

Snafu’s head flicked back and forth between him and the body. The steel wire on the wall shifted and the weight moved. One good pull and the whole thing would come unattached and the timer would start.

 

“Did he show you where it is?”

 

Snafu nodded carefully.

 

“I could get in there and you show me,” Joe offered.

 

Snafu made a distressed noise and pointed at the door the best he could. Joe squinted at the steel line and weight system where it mounted against the wall and spotted it. There was a clamp beneath the hook that held it. He couldn’t be sure but he could guess there was something rigged to the door that would clip that weight.

  
Snafu could either start the game on his terms or Joe could force the clock and go in blind. If he’d charged in like he’d wanted to, Snafu might not have got the clue to where the key was within that body. He could’ve been dead already.

 

Joe nodded reluctantly. “Okay…okay, Shelton. You do it but I’m not leaving you, you hear me? Not fucking letting you do this alone. He wants to turn us against each other? Fuck him.”

 

Joe slammed his palms on the glass and hated to feel them bounce. It was tempered shit he wouldn’t be able to smash through. Pain shot up to his elbows and he could feel the fresh ooze of blood leaked into the makeshift bandages. He lingered on the pictures of Hoosier and Snafu and a knot of guilt sat low in his chest. He’d had a part in this. Whatever Snafu’s other sins, it was Joe who had put him in Jigsaw’s line of sight.

 

“Merriell.” The name was foreign in his mouth and he made a silent vow to treat the CI better after this. To stop treating him like a tool and to see him as the man he was, raw and real and in tears behind the glass. “When we get out of here - _when_ , cause we fucking are - I’m not going to tell Hoosier. Do what you want, break contract, leave, I don’t...I won’t say anything. I’m not going to hang it over you anymore.”

 

His fingers curled against the glass and he choked down his shame. “I’m sorry.”

 

Snafu made a noise behind the mask but there was so much more in his eyes.

 

“Now get _angry_ ,” Joe ordered. “Because this is going to fucking hurt.”

 

A choked noise behind the metal felt like a sarcastic snarl. _You fucking think?_

 

o0o0o0o

 

_This was not like it should be. The setting sun cast lowlights of rose gold into the bedroom through the blinds. It laid across George’s shoulders and made him glow, sweat glistening across his chest and matting his hair. He was gorgeous straddling Joe’s lap and he obediently followed the rhythm of the hands on his hips. They’d been going for an hour, more._

 

_Joe had long last track. How was he supposed to tear his eyes away from such a sight? From those dark eyes filled with such adoration and heat. The flushed cheeks, those tempting lips that were swollen from his teeth, and the long line of his throat where Joe had suckled lovebites. George was a work of art as he rode him with deep, languid hip rolls. Joe was in awe, completely mesmerized. The headboard was warm against his own slick back and he was grateful for something solid to keep him from melting into the bed._

 

_Everything felt so warm. How close they were, the mounting pleasure, their panting breaths - it was stuffy in a good way. Joe felt swaddled in the intimate moment and he never wanted to leave. Their usual passionate and rough tumbles had turned into this slow sweetness and he was lost._

 

_Joe wrapped his arms around George’s waist and buried his face in his throat. He breathed him in and pressed his mouth to the soft skin. George let out a quiet sigh and sagged against him, arms snaking lazily around his shoulders to hug him back._

 

_They gradually stopped moving and simply pressed against one another. Though neither could string together too many coherent thoughts, they were both gluttonous for skin on skin contact. Their world narrowed down to this room, this bed, and the way they breathed against one another. Joe heard himself whisper George’s name but the man hushed him and scratched gently through his hair._

 

_They didn’t need to say anything right now._

 

o0o0o0o

 

Joe panted through his nose and cradled his wounded ribs as he watched Snafu thrash. The man had turned feral as he ripped at his bindings. He looked as if he’d yank his arm out of his socket as he pulled against the tight bands of duct tape. The lithe body bucked wildly and the chair groaned in protest. It sounded like the wood would give but it never did. Joe could see the bright spots of blood against Snafu’s skin as the tape gave. The man was tough and determined, he’d give him that. If he could ride the adrenaline long enough to get to that body…

 

With one last long rip and muffled groan, Snafu flung himself out of the chair. He hit the dirty tile with a wet smack of skin and the chain pulled from the reverse bear trap. The click was loud and final. He could hear Snafu’s labored breaths as he slapped his hands around the back of the device to look for way to rip it off. Snafu turned and screamed into the metal plates, demanding to know what was there.

 

“It’s a sixty second timer and a lock! Fucking _go_!” Joe implored, palm leaving smears of blood behind as he pressed into the window.

 

Snafu whipped back around and he’d never seen those expressive eyes so wide, so wild. They whipped back and forth along the floor as his mind raced, fingers tracing the pattern of the device all the way to the hinges in his mouth. His hands came away streaked in blood and once he saw _that_ everything clicked in place.

 

Joe tried to numb himself to the situation, to block it out and save himself from one less bad memory. But Snafu couldn’t block it out. He could hear the noises, the struggle, but he couldn’t raise his eyes. He was being selfish again just like Jigsaw accused him of. This was _his_ fault. He did this to Snafu, to Don, to Smokey, and to George. Looking away didn’t change that.

 

There was a wet squelch and he winced. He couldn’t look away this time. Not anymore. For as fucked up as Jigsaw was, he had made Joe learn that lesson. He had to face what he did.

 

Joe raised his head and grit his teeth at the sight of Snafu elbow deep within the dead man. A blood soaked scalpel had been tossed aside and he was digging into the man’s slick stomach with nothing but his fingernails. The macabre sight burned into his mind but he found himself a little proud of the lack of hesitation. Snafu ripped into the man’s stomach like the meat it was. It upended a dark gush and then his fingers emerged clutching something solid. Though his hands were shaking, Snafu managed not to drop it as he scrambled to get a hold of the lock at the back of his head.

 

Joe instinctively reached for his rosary and found his pocket empty. _Bastard._

 

Inside the classroom, Snafu jerked himself around as he tried to get the headpiece off. The seconds sliced away with no hint of mercy. The lock gave without a sound. At first Joe thought he’d broken the key or it had slipped and then Snafu started to pull. He pried the piece off with a wretched scream. Flesh gave as the sharp blades slid out of his mouth and sliced a macabre grin that stretched to the hollow of his cheeks. It was a clean line until the blood came. Snafu wailed and clutched at his face, crimson pouring over the digits in thick rivulets. The sound was _haunting_.

 

The headgear gave one last tick and then snapped shut. Snafu yelped at the sound and clumsily crawled away, slipping and knocking his elbows on the tile until he could press against the wall. He couldn’t see Snafu’s face but he heard the sob, saw the shake of his shoulders. The man crumpled in on himself just as all the lights went off.

 

“Shit,” Joe cursed, squinting through the darkness. “Stay right there, Shelton. Don’t touch anything.”

 

The far door was lit up in an archway of green stars. There was a crackle over hidden speakers and then Jigsaw’s voice poured into the hallway. ‘ _This is the door to your final test, Special Agent. I implore you to leave him in my care for when this door closes, it closes forever. Have you learned to put your faith in another’s hands?_ ’

 

“I’ll...I’ll come back for you,” Joe promised as he edged toward the door, cautious for traps. “I swear, Shelton. I’ll come back!”

 

But Snafu was beyond words and time was running out.

 

o0o0o0o

 

_It had been just a simple knock at the door._

 

_George only saw a badge through the eye hole before the door was kicked in. The deadbolt hadn’t been flipped and the chain snapped like kindling. It smacked into George, stunning him, and made him stumble until he hit the wall beside his kitchen. A man he’d never seen before stalked toward him with a predatory smile. Tall, dark, handsome - his wet dream come true except for the pistol in his hand._

 

_“Hey kid. I’m the Other Joe. Liebgott.”_

 

_“Oh,” George breathed, pressing tight to the wall. He knew that name. It was Joe’s partner, the one who hated him and who he’d left behind when he moved to the FBI. “Oh shit!”_

 

_A merciless cold cock and he was on the floor. A boot fit between his shoulder blades and his face smacked against the carpet. He braced his palms on the floor and tried to get up but Liebgott’s weight was solid._

 

_“And you’re Georgie Boy, the flavor of the month. Except.” George swallowed when he heard the gun cock. The back of his head burned where he was sure the barrel was aimed. He could feel his heart pounding against the floor and started to sweat. “Except it’s been almost a year now, huh? You and Toye, meeting in your little love nest all secret-like. How romantic.”_

 

_“How the fuck do-” George’s words cut off in a hiss as a thick heel dug between his shoulder blades. The pressure crushed into his spine until he whimpered. “Let me take a guess...he leaves, doesn’t call back for a few days, you start getting that itch for blow? And you know that while you’re all coked up you’re useful to him, huh? A good little CI to rat on drug rings.”_

 

_George tried to close his eyes, block it out, but the truth of it cut deep. He really was his most beneficial to Joe when he was using. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair, but it was what it was._

 

_“Well I got a proposition for you,” Liebgott offered, tapping his foot with intent. “I won’t blow the whistle on you lovebirds and get Toye jailed if you keep me in the loop on what the fuck he’s doing.”_

 

_“The fuck you talking about?” George spat._

 

_“I want all the pillow talk, especially about other CIs and what cases he’s on,” Liebgott demanded. “If you get any leads for him, I want to hear it first.”_

 

_“Yeah?” George grit out. “What else I get?”_

 

_A baggie landed by his head and he could see the distinctive white powder inside._

 

_“What the fuck?”_

 

_“Free hits when I visit.”_

 

_George could feel his mouth go dry at just a glance. His hand twitched toward it but he fought back those flood of urges. “And you don’t rat on Joe?”_

 

_“Nope,” Liebgott assured him._

 

_“Fine, you fucking fuck,” George spat. The pressure let up enough for him to turn and glare up at the man. Liebgott’s smug grin turned his stomach. “You got your deal. Now get off me.”_

 

o0o0o0o

 

George chewed at the collar of his shirt until his teeth finally cut through the fabric. He couldn’t tell what was the first trickle of withdrawal and what was sick anticipation. It had been eerily silent for who knows how long. An hour or two, maybe, but he couldn’t be sure. Whatever was above him was artificial light and there wasn’t a hint of a window. He could see a hint of rigging and threadbare red curtains.

 

George unfolded his legs and stretched out with a groan. He’d been curled up on himself for so long waiting on the other shoe to drop that he’d gotten sore. His butt was numb and he was getting the start of a bad headache but was otherwise unharmed. For now. He was driving himself mad in the hole. He wondered how long it would take before he started scratching at the walls. Was someone coming for him? And if so, when? He’d dehydrate before he starved.

 

All those marathons of _Man vs. Wild_ weren’t really doing much when he was completely boxed in.

 

“George? Are you in here?”

 

His heart leapt up into his throat and he stood up so fast he nearly busted his face on the other side of the hole. “Joe? Joe, I’m down here!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are literally the best. I appreciate the feedback so much. So here's the chapter we were all waiting for. We've got one more chapter in this, one more installment, and then the two part epilogue. Your comments fuel me <3

The door slammed shut behind Joe and he could hear the clack of a welded on lock sliding into place. He pressed himself against it and listened for screams, for the whoosh of fire or the telltale tick of a bomb counter, but there was nothing but Snafu’s quiet noises. Even those were fading. He vowed to come back, promising God down to his very soul that if he could save another soul he would, even if that meant giving up his own.

 

But George needed him now and he had to focus.

 

Joe’s gaze swept over the wide room in front of him. It was an auditorium. He instinctively looked to the exits but they were obviously blocked off. There was a stage framed by decaying curtains and a shadowy backstage. He could see an illuminated EXIT sign but his surge of hope was dashed when he saw the glisten of a Jigsaw-esque contraption strapped across the door. He’d bet money it was embedded in the push lock of the door and it wouldn’t budge unless released by the bastard himself.

 

He knew this because he could see what was surely his own game on the stage.

 

Similar to what he woke up on, there was a metal cross mounted on a stand that was bolted to the stage. There were braided metal cables in taunt circles on each arm where a hand could go it through and grab the steel handles that protruded just past them. Behind it was a generator locked up in a metal cage that didn’t look like it would give under anything but a bolt cutter.

 

There was a timer mounted to the wall above a metal tray. It seemed to have started at thirty minutes about when he opened the door and now it steadily ticked down. On the tray was a tape recorder.

 

“George, are you in here?” he called, unsure what he’d find.

 

“Joe?” It was George, muffled and quiet but _George_. “Joe, I’m down here!”

 

‘Here’ was a glass floor that he only saw once he’d got to the top of the stairs and stepped onto the stage. It was just a panel but it was a solid square cut out of the floorboards and replaced with what looked like a three layer reinforced glass panel. He heard his name drift up from beneath it again and he ran, dropping to his knees and pitching forward to lay his hands on the glass. Pain shot up to his elbows and they nearly buckled but between the frame of his thumbs was George. Face pale and tipped up to him, the man looked terrified but unharmed. He wanted to cross himself but his fingers didn’t want to leave the glass.

 

He was so close he could almost touch him. The shock of relief made him dizzy but that might’ve been the adrenaline, dehydration, and blood loss.

 

George stood up and reached for him but they both knew he wouldn’t get close to the glass. The hole was deeper than it looked. “What’s going on?”

 

“It’s Jigsaw.”

 

“That serial killer on the news?” George puzzled. “The one you’ve been going after?”

 

“He abducted a detective friend of mine and his husband,” Joe explained as calmly as he could. “I think he has my old partner Liebgott and his boyfriend.” He missed the way the dealer flinched. “I know he abducted a Deputy Marshall I work with and the CI in his care. I thought this might be coming and I was ready for it but I never thought he’d find you, George. You don’t deserve to be here.”

 

George shook his head with a sad little smile. “You shouldn’t either, Joe. This shit ain’t right.”

 

Joe dropped his head and cursed through grit teeth, wondering what the fuck he did to deserve someone who trusted him so much. He’d never felt more like a bastard.

 

“That fucker shot me up with something.” George showed the inside of his arm though it was hard to see through the panes. “I should be going through some hard shakes right now but besides my head feeling like I got hit with a hammer, I’m fine. More fine than I should.”

 

Joe eyed the edges of the glass and how it seemed to be built to retract. He felt at the edges where the wood had been cut and it felt professional, smooth. “We’ve proven Jigsaw has medical and engineering knowledge. He might’ve given you something to make you clear headed.”

 

“Why the hell would he do that?”

 

“To make sure you can play this game? I don’t know,” Joe admitted, searching the hole for anything useful. “Is there a tape recorder down there?”

 

“I’ve got some kind of toolbox with a five digit number lock on it and a bottle of water,” George tisked, looking around his feet like he hadn’t spent his entire time in the hole searching every crevice for a way out. “There might be something inside it but I’ve tried every number I can think of right down to my first girlfriend’s locker combination.”

 

A startled, tired chuckle slipped past Joe’s dry lips. “Georgie…”

 

“Hey, I’m holding up my end, I moved the numbers,” George teased, smiling as best he could. “Anything useful up there?”

 

Joe cocked his head to peer past the edge of the cross. The timer was mounted above a medical tray stand. There was a tape recorder standing up and he wondered what else was there. “There’s a timer and a tape up there. George, I need you to listen to me. Okay?”

 

They met eyes and the man nodded steadily.  

 

“We have to do whatever it says no matter what. It might get bad,” Joe warned, raising his makeshift bandaged hand. “I had to cut something out of my hands when I woke up. Who knows what this will be?”

 

George eyed his hand and blanched. “Jesus.”

 

“Whatever it is, we’ll get through it,” Joe assured. “I’m not going to let him kill you.”

 

“Let’s hope no one gets killed,” George joked weakly, swallowing hard as he registered exactly what had been said. “There’s a timer, huh? What, uh...what happens when the timer runs out?”

 

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. Joe got up and shook the ache from his knees. “Be right back.”

 

“If you say ‘don’t go anywhere’ I’m going to slug you.”

 

“Yeah I’d like to see you try, short stack,” Joe snorted. He went over to the tray and smelled fumes. There was fresh paint on the metal tray in the form of five numbers. **71921**. But that didn’t make sense. He touched the edge of the nine and his finger came back red. If Jigsaw had preplanned this game as thoroughly as he had every other one it should’ve been dry. Had something gone wrong with this game? Was there a weakness he could exploit?

 

Joe took the tape recorder and went back to the hole. He knelt with a wince and started to unbutton his shirt. He shucked it off and pulled up his undershirt to get a better look at his wounds. The flesh around the punctures were inflamed. They’d stopped bleeding but they were hot and painful to the touch. Who knew what kind of bacteria was crawling all over this place?

 

“That looks like it hurts,” George remarked, straining to see.

 

“It’s fine,” Joe brushed off as he tore off strips of his ruined dress shirt with his teeth. He took off the crusted vest bandages and flashed the puckered wounds in his palms. “See? Already looks better. I had some spikes to pull out too. Nothing bad.”

 

But George looked unconvinced and washed out. “I’m gonna’ fuck this guy up, Joe.”

 

Joe rewrapped his hands with as much of a smile as he could manage with little shocks of pains going up his arms. “I promise I’m okay, Georgie.”

 

 _But I might not be after this_. He picked the tape recorder once the strips were as secure as they were going to get. “You ready?”

 

When he got the nod, he pressed play.

 

‘ _Congratulations, Special Agent Toye. You have made it to your final test. This will be a test of trust, a trust you have so often abused. I have provided you with keys and a cross. It is what you will need to get out of this place alive_.’

 

Joe laid his other hand on the glass to try and silently soothe George as the man started to fidget.

 

‘ _When the timer runs out, the platform Mr. Luz is upon will raise. Unfortunately the glass above him will not._ ’

 

“Oh shit,” George whines, spinning around wildly to see if there was any give to the walls. He’d done it before but now he was fueled by a hot flush of fear.

 

‘ _There is one way to prevent this fate that lies within a sacrifice. There is a key to a box, and in that box is a key to a lock. Once it is turned it cannot be unturned and the platform will rise. The only way to stop its ascension is to put yourself upon the cross and prove that you are willing to change. A selfless act is the only thing that will keep him alive, Special Agent. Close the circuit and every door shall open. Hesitate and they will stay closed. Forever. Time is slipping through your fingers. You must seize it or lose everything. Make your choice._ ’

 

“Joe.” George’s voice shook and he wished desperately he could at least touch the man. “How bad is it up there?”

 

Joe’s lips pursed as he glanced at the generator. “Bad.”

 

“Is it gonna’ hurt?” George asked tentatively. “Whatever you have to do?”

 

“Less painful than getting crushed against _this_.” Joe tapped his knuckles against the glass cover. It was a thick pane and he could see two layers to it at least. It appeared to be something like Hammerglass and he wasn’t sure if it would smash even if he could find something to throw against it.

 

George laughed but there was no humor in it. “Or a soft squishy body?”

 

“That box needs five numbers, doesn’t it?” Joe deflected.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Let me try something.” Joe got back up and circled around to the back of the cross. There was a number pad on the back of it and the generator cable fed into it, metal welded solidly around it in a box that he wouldn't be able to knock loose or tamper with. “I might need five numbers too.”

 

He went back to the numbers on the tray again and entered them. The keypad buzzed in warning.

 

“Shit,” he huffed, looking to the rotting auditorium seats. “Okay, hang tight down there. I’m going to find something to break the glass.”

 

o0o0o0o

 

_Joe couldn’t remember the last time he felt so comfortable. He was naked, sated, and George was practically purring beneath him in satisfaction. He couldn’t remember the hour or even what day it was. All he knew was the soft stomach against his cheek and the warm body in his arms. There was a flick of a lighter and the smell of fresh smoke. His head rose and fell as George inhaled the first hit._

 

_Joe scrubbed his cheek against him. He never wanted to leave this bed. He half wished they were in his own apartment but this place smelled of George. It was cluttered and small, kind of dirty, but it was packed with George’s CDs and movies and that made it more than good enough. A hand carded through his hair and he hummed as pleasant tingles worked down his spine. Fingers worked soothing circles down between his shoulder blades, tracing the wings of bone and prickling goosebumps._

 

_It was quiet, safe. Joe could close his eyes and pretend they’re in love and everything was normal between them. In this moment he could imagine he hadn’t fucked up this relationship since day one and things were as they should be._

 

o0o0o0o

 

Joe wasted precious minutes trying to break the glass with everything he could find. Boards, the backs of auditorium seats, anything he could pry up. But the reinforced glass held. George was curled up in the corner of the hole watching but he didn’t look hopeful.

 

“Okay, fuck it, I’ll play,” Joe growled, tossing aside the metal bar he’d taken off a chair. He dropped to a knee and nodded at the toolbox in the hole. “Let’s open it. You ready?”

 

George grabbed the box and pulled it into his lap. “As I can be.”

 

“Seven-one-nine-two-one. Be careful it could be rigged.”

 

“Not a lot of room to run,” George grumbled. He rolled the numbers in a straight line, popped the hatch, and threw it. They both shielded their heads but there was no explosion, no hint of violence. A slew of papers spilled out. Not just paper, but files and pictures. Professional and glossy marked with date stamps. George blinked dully at them before shifting them around, eyes jumping from one to the other as he tried to soak up the details. His mouth dropped open as it began to register what the fuck he was looking at. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes as his reality tilted on its side.

 

Joe bit his lip and watched helplessly. “Look for a five digit sequence.”

 

Even he could hear how weak he sounded.

 

George picked up handfuls of pictures and started flipping through them. A lot of the shots were sleazy motel rooms and what looked like security footage in police stations. It was Joe blatantly, shamelessly, undoubtedly _fucking_ other people. It wasn’t just strangers. The papers turned out to be files and he started to match names to faces. Joe was fucking CIs all the way up to what looked like five months ago.

 

“Those numbers,” Joe prompted.

 

“Fuck numbers,” George spat, flashing one of the pictures up to the ceiling. “What the fuck is this? You’re fucking CIs?”

 

Joe couldn’t look him in the eye and that’s when he had to choke down the truth. George’s throat felt swollen and his chest went tight. It felt like his ribs were digging into his lungs, his very heart. In the pictures the other CIs looked like they were loving it. Men and women with Joe-Fucking-Toye balls deep in them. Some of them weren’t even particularly attractive but all their faces were drawn in ecstasy. Humiliation burned in an angry flush across his face. Once he managed to drag his eyes from the writhing bodies he could see different kinds of pills and powder on the side tables.

 

“You’re doing drugs with them too?” he hissed accusingly.

 

“Fuck no,” Joe spat.

 

“So this is what you do.” It was a question and every word felt like a scratch against George’s heavy heart. “You find some stupid druggie who doesn’t know any better and fuck them for information?”

 

He went for his rosary again and felt it’s loss like a wound. “It’s not like that.”

 

George’s grimaced as sick realization pooled in his gut. “You’re _lying_.”

 

“It’s not like that with _you_ ,” Joe clarified with a new sincerity. “It started out like that, sure, but not anymore.”

 

“What is this? A dozen?” George felt a cold sweat starting to build as panic built up. He couldn’t keep track of all the faces. “H-How many?”

 

Joe’s mouth gaped dumbly as he tried to come up with a lie. He couldn’t. “Almost...almost all of them.”

 

“Christ.”

 

“George, the numbers-”

 

“Fuck-”

 

“Don’t tell me ‘fuck the numbers’ again!” Joe growled impatiently. “If I don’t stop it, you _will_ die.”

 

“What does it even matter to you?” George demanded. “Maybe it’s better if I just fucking die down here?”

 

Joe was taken aback, horrified at the implication. Surely he couldn’t mean that?

 

“The only good thing I’ve had in years is you,” George grit out. “And it was just another fucking lie.”

 

“I-” Joe felt like he was choking. He’d never meant for George to find out like this. He never meant to tell him at all. He assumed George would’ve sobered up and left him before that time came or one of them died for the job. In his worst nightmares he’d give George a heartfelt confession and be rejected, turned in, jobless and heartbroken. “I can’t be the only thing you have to live for. That’s not healthy.”

 

“Healthy?” George laughed, tossing a handful of pictures. The bitter edge to the usual lighthearted sound had Joe’s stomach churning. “What part of all this is _healthy_? This fucking bullshit cycle we’re stuck in?”

 

“You fuck me, make me love you, make me want to get off blow, and when I try to get clean you disappear! And then you come back when I break and get high?” George sneered and tore one of the pictures just to destroy something. “I mean, what the _fuck_?”

 

Joe flinched away from the barbs. It felt like George had sliced through the web of carefully spun lies. He was bare now. Those pictures peeled away what defenses he had left. It took a few swallows to find his voice. “I didn’t force coke down your throat. You did that all by yourself.”

 

“Well the jokes on you, Toye. _You’re_ the one who fucks me up!” George barked, a file giving under his fist. “You’re the reason I can’t stay in Goddamn rehab! You and you’re fucking lies. I’m not much but I ain’t no one’s secret _faggot_.”

 

The word hit Joe right in the chest and he prickled. “Hey! Don’t fucking say that shit!”

 

“It’s true, isn’t it?” George accused, digging mercilessly at the exposed nerve. The heat bled out of his voice and a new tightness came around his eyes. Joe’s heart lurched as he saw the start of tears in his eyes. “I ain’t nothin’ to you, am I?”

 

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded.

 

“Just another hole jacked up on blow to make me extra tight,” George drawled, wishing the fist in his chest would just squeeze the life out of his heart already. Anything was better than the drawn out agony of looking into the eyes he’d grown to love and be force fed more lies. “You weren’t trying to help me. You were getting off on how fucked up I was.”

 

It was too much. Joe’s fingers went white on the glass and he _burst_. “I’m sorry! I’m fucking sorry, George, for fuck’s sake. It’s different now! I stopped fucking them the second I realized how much you meant to me.”

 

“How am I supposed to believe you?” George lamented, gaze dragging over the sea of disgusting pictures. He couldn’t help but think of Liebgott and how he’d let himself be used. Was what Joe had done so much worse? “Shit, I can’t even believe _myself_. We’re fucking pathetic, Toye.”

 

Joe watched him crumple up a photo that he swore had red numbers on the back of it.

 

“Don’t bother with the numbers,” George remarked, fingers uncurling to let the picture fall. “Just get out of here.”

 

“You think I’d leave you here?” Joe snapped, hands itching to pound on the glass or shake some sense into George. “This fucker will crush you, George! I’m not fucking around. We’ve got less than ten minutes and I need to get you out of there.”

 

“It doesn’t matter.” The murmur was defeated and Joe knew that George would dig his heels in until it was too late.

 

He tipped his head back and sighed through his nose. “Who the fuck am I?”

 

George made a small noise that was almost swallowed up by the reinforced glass.

 

“I’m just some fucking asshole who fucked around with you,” Joe stated, eyes sliding to the metal cross. “You’re right, I’m a piece of shit. I always have been. You should want to see me fry. Let me take it, alright?

 

A handful of heartbeats went by before George spoke up again. His voice was uncharacteristically hesitant, soft, and it unnerved him. “I know Liebgott.”

 

His head snapped back down to frown at the man. “You what?”

 

“I kinda more than know him,” George confessed, tripping over the words. He picked up one of the pictures and saw himself with his head between Liebgott’s legs. “He found me once we started being a regular thing. Burst into my fucking apartment like Jason Goddamn Bourne or something. He bribed me, said he had proof we’d been fucking and he’d turn you in.”

 

“That fucking shit,” Joe spat, cursing low in rapid Spanish as blood-crusted nails raked smoothly against the glass. “I’ll beat his fucking ass. What’d he make you do to keep him quiet? Money?”

 

“Intel.” George wasn’t proud of it but he wished it stopped there. “He said he wanted our pillow talk. He wanted to know anything you were doing with your cases and your other CIs. I was afraid he’d bug the apartment in case I was lying. He really didn't seem too stable.”

 

Joe could easily remember the times where George would distract him from talking about work. He’d taken George’s word for it at the time that he wanted to help him relax, that he didn’t need to think about work while he was there, and now he knew those to be half truths. It made his chest ache. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

 

“I should’ve, I was going to,” George fumbled, heart clogging up his throat. “I-I didn’t think right at first and I was using real hard, couldn’t fucking figure out what to do. By the time I decided to tell you, it was too late, he...he already had blackmail on me.”

 

“What did he make you do that I couldn’t forgive you for?” Joe rumbled, thumbing over the glass. George looked so torn up and he wanted to at least touch his cheek, comfort him in some way. “I could’ve taken it off your record, written it off as CI work.”

 

“You couldn’t have made _this_ disappear.” George held out the most damning picture of him and Liebgott. He dropped his head, eyes squeezed shut so he couldn’t see the man’s reaction. “Fuck, Joe, I’m so sorry. He said he’d turn you in and I’d done worse with skeezier people. It didn’t seem like a big deal.”

 

“ _George_.” There was dozen different emotions in his name. He could taste the disappointment, the shock, the edge of disgust.

 

“I was in love with you, Goddamn it!” George confessed, the picture shuddering in his grasp. “And I fucking _knew_ you didn’t give a shit about me. If you knew or if I got you fired, you’d leave. I didn’t know what the fuck to do! I...I was so confused and he had pictures, a fucking _video_. You were all I had, Joe.”

 

George’s voice wavered and finally shattered. He throat was dry and his head hurt so much. He dropped the picture and cradled his head between his hand to try and ease the throbbing. “Happened maybe a dozen times and he put a stop to it. I was so fucking grateful.” He tried to hide his sniffle but it was half hearted. He knew the timer was ticking down and there was no way Joe was going to hurt himself for some piece of trash. “Doesn’t matter now I guess.”

 

Joe’s jaw worked as he ground his teeth, mulling it all over. He was stunned at the news but it was the truth. He couldn’t deny it, couldn’t close his eyes. His whole world felt off kilter and a little sick in his gut. Lieb and George, _his_ George. His instinctual reaction was anger, pure and simple rage. He wanted to lash out and bite but there was nothing to sink his teeth into. The thought of his George letting himself get blackmailed by a man that hated him-

 

Joe caught sight of the timer and they were at the five minute mark. He chewed on the image of that picture and gradually the tension bled from Joe’s shoulders. What did he expect from George when he gave him no reason to trust him? George had done the best he could under the knife. Getting blackmailed was nothing to laugh at. Joe should know, he’d done it to plenty of CIs. What would he have honestly done if Liebgott had sent him those photos, that video? Would he have believed George?

 

Seeing the devastation on George’s face and the tears in his lashes, he knew the answer.

 

“Show me those numbers.”

 

George’s head shot up, brows furrowed deep. “What?”

 

“You heard me,” he grunted.

  
  
George searched Joe’s face for any sign of uncertainty, cruelty, but couldn’t find any. He didn’t understand. “After all that? Even though I…?”

 

“I hate him for doing that to you,” Joe admitted, praying Liebgott lived through his test so he could sock him in the jaw (and a few other places). “You were trying to protect me.”

 

“I was trying to protect _me_ ,” George shot back. “I couldn’t lose you. The thought of it made me fucking sick, alright?”

 

“When I find Lieb I’m going to kick his ass, don’t doubt that.” Joe’s eyes flicked to the timer. “And when we get out of here we’re going to have a long ass talk about all this but here isn’t really the place.”

 

“I...I don’t want to hurt you.” George’s voice rasped on the edge of a sob.

 

“And I don’t want to hurt you, _corazon_ ,” Joe husked, thumb rubbing tenderly over the glass. “I couldn’t bear it.” He swallowed down his pride. “Please, Georgie. I’m begging you. Let me do this.”

  
George reluctantly uncrumpled one of the photos and held it up. It was a picture of the two of them kissing in some alley George had probably dragged him into. In another life, it could’ve been any other pair of lovers stealing a moment of intimacy. The picture was flipped over and there was a number in thick red marker.

 

**31919**

 

Joe wasted no time running over and punching the number into the back of the metal cross. The keypad beeped and the generator kicked to life. The low hum worried Joe. He touched the body of the cross and it was warm but didn’t shock him. Those handles had were fed into the back of them, he could see that now. Joe took deep, measured breaths to try to calm his heart but couldn’t stop the way it raced as he stepped around to the front of the cross. The base of the cross had words painted on it a dark green he hadn’t noticed until he was right on top of it.

 

**Stand And Face Your Sins**

 

Joe took a step onto the platform and he could tell it was different. He climbed up and it decompressed. It was a scale to make sure he was standing on the platform when he grabbed those handles and ‘close the circuit’. He turned and put his back to the cross and could feel the whole structure buzzing. The symbolism was not lost upon him as he stretched his arms out to either side and slid them through the rings.

 

George started screaming his name and his breath picked up, heart pounding a tattoo on the inside of his chest. He couldn’t hesitate. The timer had cleared and there wasn’t a second to spare. He could hear something cranking away inside the hole.  

 

“Fucking shit, Joe! It’s raising!” George screeched, shoes and hands slipping all over the hole as he tried to find a safe space. “I lied! Okay? I lied, Joe! I want to live! Oh fuck, oh _fuck_!”

 

“Me too, Georgie.” Joe bit the bullet and grabbed the handles. _Holy Michael, the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil-_

 

There was a sting where his wounds pulled and bit against the metal and then he felt something frizzle inside him. It was a crawl at first and then all at once. It felt like every ounce of meat inside Joe’s body clenched. His body jerked without his permission and arched taunt against the cross. Even his tongue seized up. His arms and legs cramped up painfully and he swore his stomach turned inside out with how much it burned in his gut. His heart swelled and pushed against his ribs, the pressure mounting and threatening to stop it for good. Tingles shot through his body and in moments they turned to white hot bolts of lightning.

 

o0o0o0o

 

_Joe stood outside George’s apartment, drunk as he’d ever been outside of college. He swayed on his feet and touched the worn wood of the door. This was a bad idea. Stupid words like ‘love’ and ‘need’ were resting on the tip of his tongue and all he had to do was knock. It had been a week and he wanted to see George so bad it felt like a bruise on his heart._

 

_Joe lost his balance as he shuffled forward and had to brace himself on the door, forehead dropping to the cool wood. He sucked in a breath to start yelling for George and maybe have him carry him inside but was stopped when he heard laughter. Not just George but someone else with him. It was light hearted and free in a way he wanted George to always be. And here he was being an intruding asshole._

 

 _He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve George_. 

 

o0o0o0o

 

George could hear Joe screaming. It sounded like the man was _dying_. He was more terrified than he could ever remember being. His blood felt like fire and ice and he could hear every heartbeat in his ears like thunder. He crowded himself into the corner of the hole and gaped in horror as the floor started to raise. The glass ceiling was groaning and shuddering but it had yet to move. He didn’t know what Joe had to do to close the circuit and stop the floor but it sounded like murder.

 

“Joe!” he screamed, fingers scrabbling uselessly on the wall. “I’m sorry! I’ll do anything, please!”

 

Besides the yelling he couldn’t hear Joe’s voice and it was fucking with him. He was bound and blind in this stupid hole and there was nothing he could do as the glass inched closer. With how Joe was wailing he was afraid what he’d see when the ceiling opened up. _If_ it opened up. What seemed like an impossible reach moments ago became a sick reality. George outstretched his arm and his fingers grazed the glass. It was stalwart. It was getting harder to breathe. A clammy sweat slicked the back of his neck and his palms, leaving streaks on the glass.

 

Then it started to move. It creaked and there was a hairsbreadth of space between the edge of the glass and the wall but it was _space_. As Joe’s cries rose in pitch the glass ceiling retracted by scant inches. The glass was reluctant to move but eventually he could fit his arm through if he squeezed. George made himself as small as possible and prayed the pane moved faster than the ever-raising floor. His knees bumped against the glass but it was barely one-fourth of the way retracted. It was getting impossible to scrunch himself any smaller and he had a choice to make. He couldn’t risk waiting. He’d seen enough horror movies to know what was going to happen.

 

George sucked in as much as he could and started to squeeze himself between the blunt glass and the edge of the cut floor. He wriggled past the sluggish pane and clawed at the polished floor, dust catching under his nails as he tried to pull himself up by sheer force of will. The floor pushed his legs the rest of the way out and he squirmed away, thinking only of safety. He panted a shit load of dust up into his lungs but it was the sweetest air compared to being crammed into a metal box. He dropped his forehead to the floor in pure relief as he heard metal smack against glass. The box crunched into nothing and he was free. He flexed his arms and legs to try and ease the numbness out of them. They were shaky from the adrenaline and he was sure he was going to hurl if he stood up too fast.

 

The screaming stopped and George gave up any pretense of waiting. He sat up and turned to look at what had become of the Special Agent. He shuddered at the sight of him. Joe was slumping on a fucking _cross_ like Jesus himself, arms out, wrists hanging limp from metal braided cords. He was coated in sweat, flushed, and there were burn marks around his slack fingers. It looked like an electric sear. Joe’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath and his head fell back against the metal, throat bobbing as he swallowed around a dry tongue. He was wrung out and glassy eyed.

 

“Joe?” he called faintly, getting up on wobbling knees.

 

Joe smiled weakly and George noticed the slight twitches at the corner of his mouth. His whole body was wracked with them, jerking a little now and then especially around his fingertips. “Georgie. We...did it, huh? Go us.”

 

George used to love and joke about Joe’s sex growl but _this_ ...the heavy rasp, the thinness, it _scared_ him.

 

The speakers crackled and George’s stomach bottomed out. _‘Congratulations would be in order, Special Agent, if that were the last of your test.’_

 

Joe’s face crumpled and George couldn’t imagine he looked any different.

 

 _‘George.’_ He jumped at his name in that strange voice. _‘There is a loose floorboard at the far right edge of the stage. It is the last_ _part of this game.’_

 

George hurried to Joe’s left and the toe of his sneaker found the board before his eyes did. It was slightly discolored and it gave when he pushed at the edge of it. Beneath it was a remote of some sort. It was simple with only a switch upon it but it was heavy with implication. He ambled back over to Joe and stared down at the device.

 

“What the fuck?” Joe muttered, still boneless on the cross.

 

The speakers hummed and it sent goosebumps across George’s shoulder blades. _‘Now you hold all the power.’_

 

The steel cords where Joe hung his wrists snapped taut without warning. Joe cried out in surprise and tried to pull his arms free but it was too late. They were pinned so tight the skin went white around the metal. He panted through clenched teeth and yanked, throwing himself forward but finding no slack.

 

_‘Now he must put his trust in you.’_

 

The generator roared again and there was an audible clack of energy rerouting. A surging noise filled George’s ears before Joe jerked against the cross, screaming out. Joe looked shell shocked and when the sound cut off he smacked back against the cross. “George, no...a-are-”

 

“There’s just a switch! I’m not doing anything!” George swore, carefully holding the remote in the hollow of his palm.

 

There was another loud buzz and Joe’s body jerked forward, face screwing up. “ _Fuck_!”

 

‘ _The door is open, George_.’

 

There was one door with a lit Exit sign and a bar lock across it. George hadn’t noticed it but now he couldn’t look away as the lock clacked and turned, the bar retracting and allowing the door to freely swing open. George could see the low evening sunlight spilling across an alley

 

‘ _You are free to leave behind the chains that have bound you. Beyond that door is a fresh start. You have only one choice in this game. You can leave Special Agent Toye in my care, or with that small switch you can free him.’_

 

“George!” Joe wailed as the generator roared another shockwave through him. He slumped heavily against the cross when it ended and whined in the back of his throat. “I-I don’t deserve anything but _please_. You don’t know what he’s capable of. You don’t even know what’s out there.” Another shock and his face screwed up in agony, voice cracking to pieces. “Don’t leave me with him!”

 

No, he couldn’t leave Joe. He couldn’t let Jigsaw have him. But there was one more thing. Something that was nagging at the back of his mind.

 

“Tell me why.” George didn’t recognize his own voice as he spoke. He stared down at the remote, unable to meet Joe’s eyes, but he sounded strong and sure. His thumb was nowhere near the switch. He heard the choked, confused noise but still didn’t sway. “I want to know why the fuck you want me high. I’m not stupid, Toye. I fucking figured it out. Jigsaw did one thing for me you couldn’t do - he cleared my head. I know now what you were doing.”

 

He squeezed the remote and finally dragged his gaze up to glare at Joe. “Why the fuck do you want me high?”

 

Joe swallowed thickly and shook his head, refusing. Another shock hit him and he thrashed on the cross. The electricity was getting worse, the generator louder. George wasn’t sure how much more Joe could live through but he couldn’t let himself think about that. He needed to know and this was the only time he’d hear the full truth of it.

 

“Why?” George demanded, shouting over the man’s scream. “Just fucking tell me!”

 

“Because I wanted you to need me!” The words were ripped out of Joe on the crest of a surge and sparks danced around the cord. The stench of burnt skin hit his nose and his thumb touched the switch. He nearly flipped it when the current cut off. Joe dropped his head back, wheezing and staring at the ceiling. “I-I needed it.”

 

George’s heart was conflicted. “Why?”

 

Joe chuckled lowly and he could feel his ribs shivering around his heart. “Because I fucking love you, alright? You fucking win.” He coughed and his chest strained like it was going to collapse. “I didn’t want to admit it. To you, God, myself. Didn’t want to say it. Thought I’d ruin it.”

 

Joe vision swam and he went light headed. A smaller shock like a peck hit him and he whined. His hands were buzzing and numb at the same time. He felt as if they were going to fall off. His wrists were fried and he could feel the flesh flaking off. There was fresh blood on his fingers from the reopened wounds on his palms. But the words wouldn’t stop. “If you got sober...what’d you need me for anymore? Don’t deserve it. Look what I did to us.”

 

A hoarse shout ripped out of him as a strong current shot straight up his spine.

 

Blessedly, George flipped the switch.

 

o0o0o0o

 

Joe must have passed out between the last shock and the fall. He was on the floor and that was all he knew. He could barely string enough thought together to realize he would’ve broke his nose on the wood if he’d hit it full on. Someone must have caught him. Gentle fingers cradled his face and he brought into the soft curves of a body he would know in his sleep.

 

 _Georgie_. He tried to say his name but his throat was dry except for the slick of his own blood. His lips curved around more silent apologies but George hushed him. His hands moved in a soothing caress down the side of his face and arm. Then he started to move him.

 

“We have to get out of here, Joe. Come on, Big Guy, get up. We can’t stay here.”


	6. Epilogue

“Hey, Joe. There you are, buddy.”

 

Joe knew that voice. He’d been drifting in and out for so long that it was hard to pull himself back to the surface. He became aware in pieces. He was laying down and he could hear beeping, the low hum that was in every hospital. There was a measure of relief knowing he’d got out of the trap but it was undermined by how sore and swollen he felt all over. Something dug in around his mouth and it was cold against his lips.  

 

He cracked open his eyes but his lids were heavy. He could barely keep them from closing. An oxygen mask was strapped around his head but thankfully nothing down his throat. The room looked like every other hospital room and there was a small comfort in that.

 

It was exactly who he’d thought. Bill Guarnere, Old Gonorrhea himself. He’d been assigned as Joe’s partner little more than a month ago but the guy had taken a shine to him when he saw how he could get his hands dirty. That big, stupid grin was on his face and Joe guessed he couldn’t have looked too bad if Bill wasn’t screaming for nurses.

 

Joe tried to sit up but his palms were heavily wrapped and his whole chest screamed in protest. He went to say Bill’s name but all that came out was a rasp.

 

“Shut up and don't move too much,” Bill ordered, tapping his chest lightly and keeping his smile. “The doc said you took a nasty shock. You’re going to be feeling it for a while. They don’t want you squirming around ‘cause your ticker is a fragile little snowflake right now. So you just lay there and I’ll get the hottest nurses I can find to give you a sponge bath. Deal?”

 

That quick humor had lightened up a lot of heavy situations between them. It was something he’d come to rely on. Even now exhausted down to the bone his lips twitched up in a faint smile. The motion triggered a flood of sense memory and fresh pain bloomed along his ribs. He sucked in a ragged breath and it came back to him. The cross, the electricity, _George_.

 

The monitor beeped harshly and reflected his spiking heartbeat. Bill frowned at the machine and then leant over him, looking for a problem. “Whoa, what’s up? I gotchu’, Joe. Tell Ol’ Guarnere and I’ll fix it.”

 

“George,” he rasped, throat aching. “What happened?”

 

“An ambulance found you while they were in a gas station getting snacks or something. They said they went in, got jerky, came out, and there you were on the ground. They got you here and found your wallet, then they called me in. They’ve been taking good care of you, Joe.”

 

Joe could feel tears welling up in his eyes at the solo implication. “George?”

 

Bill frowned thoughtfully. “George Luz?”

 

Joe searched his friend’s face for recognition but found nothing to save his hope. He struggled to swallow down a pathetic whine but couldn’t stop it. This couldn’t be happening. They’d won! They’d got out! He remembered George helping him stand, getting him to walk, what the hell had happened after? Had Jigsaw retaken him? George could’ve been caught in another game for hours being ripped apart by some hideous contraption and any trace of him would be long gone.

 

“No, no,” Joe begged, arms shaking as he struggled to sit up. “I gotta’ get up. I gotta’ find him. He has him.”

 

“What? Who?” Bill demanded.

 

“Jigsaw!” Joe croaked, palm slipping on the sheet and sending him smacking against the pillows. “Jigsaw has George.”

 

“Joe, you gotta calm down, he ain’t-”

 

“He’ll kill him! It’s my fault!” Joe’s voice shattered completely and started to cough. It felt rough, scraping, and he was thankful when Bill grabbed him a nearby glass of ice chips. Joe let his partner slip the mask down long enough to give him a heavy spoon of relief. He opened his mouth for a second spoonful and let it melt, numbing his tongue in a good way. Bill slid the mask back up and adjusted it, urging him to lay back down.

 

“It’s okay, buddy.”

 

“You gotta’ find him,” Joe pleaded desperately, hand curling in the man’s shirt in a loose fist. “Bill-”

 

“Joe, he said stay still.”

 

Joe tried to look around Bill but the man stepped aside. _George_. George was standing there in the doorway with a butterfly bandage on his head. He looked pale around the edges but whole. An wave of relief flooded through Joe and his head spun, the intensity of it making him nauseous. He forced himself to lay his head back and take even, measured breaths.

 

“I was trying to tell you,” Bill scolded gently, keeping an eye on him in case he threw up. “Luz is fine. He was found with you. You were both out cold.”

 

Joe tried to keep face but he couldn’t, not with George safe and right in front of him. He didn’t know what he looked like but Bill was uncharacteristically quiet. Bill carefully touched his shoulder and finally he could look at him.

 

“I’ll leave you two alone a minute.”

  
Joe tried to lie and say it was nothing but Bill just patted his cheek. “Hey, I’m not gonna’ tell anyone, okay? Don’t worry about that right now. I just gotta’ know if it really was Jigsaw who had you? You’re sure?”

 

“It was,” Joe swore.

 

“Okay.” Bill straightened up, mouth set in a determined line. “I’ll keep everyone off your back for as long as I can. You two work on your story.”

 

“Bill, no.”

 

“Eh, don’t give me no lip,” Bill griped. “I’d gut check ‘ya but I’m sure you’d throw up with how banged up you are. I got Hall on the door. Cowboy won’t let anyone in, okay? Green agents are good for something - they’re eager to please.”

 

Joe couldn’t bring himself to protest. A moment alone with George after the nightmare he’d been through sounded like a small slice of heaven.

 

Bill started to leave as George came in and took the kid by the elbow, making him stop. “Hey. I don’t know what happened in that game but that’s not my business right now. Just wanted to tell you I followed him once and caught the two of you necking like a couple kids in his car.”

 

George started to shrink in fear, ready for an ass beating, but Bill held up a placating hand.

 

“And I’m gonna keep not saying anything. You two just fix whatever it is. Take care of each other cause this slob needs it, alright?” Bill tried to joke, letting go and patting his arm. “I’ll give you as long as I can.”

 

Bill drew the blinds and closed the door behind. The two looked at one another but George was strangely shy, fiddling with his hands and struggling to meet his gaze. When he finally spoke it was in a rush.

 

“I’m so fucking sorry, Joe. I shouldn’t have let him keep shocking you. I-I shouldn’t have…”

 

Joe shook his head.

 

“I shouldn’t have slept with Liebgott,” he plowed forward. “I should’ve come to you the first time it happened but I was scared, okay? If you got fired because of me I knew you’d leave. I wanted anything I could get from you. And I don’t understand why you thought _I’d_ leave if I got sober but I understand that fear. I needed you to know that...that I fucking get it. I get being scared.”

 

Joe took in a breath to speak but George wouldn’t relent.

 

“I got you out of there, I swear! We were outside and I saw the sun was going down and then someone came up behind me.” He gestured at his hair, brows scrunched up. “It was some guy with dark hair. I think there might’ve been two of them because you were beside me and when I fell there was this couple seconds where I was still awake and you weren’t down yet? I don’t know, it’s all fuzzy. I haven’t told anyone anything, not even that guy Guarnere. I didn’t know what to do and you were out cold.”

 

“George,” Joe implored, reaching for him.

 

George shuffled over and gasped quietly when he was pulled down insistently. He crawled in and followed Joe’s hands to snuggle down into his side. It was painfully intimate and more than George had had from Joe in public in ages.

 

Joe hummed as he found solace in the way George settled into the crook of his arm. He nosed into dark hair and breathed him in. There was so much to talk about but for now he let his frazzled heart settle. He didn’t know the extent of their wounds but this moment was just for them. “I’m sorry.”

 

George pressed his forehead against him and curled an arm around his waist, keeping his touch light. “I’m sorry too.”

 

Joe held him as much as he could but he felt weak. His eyes were growing heavy again and his legs felt as if they were already asleep. He was drifting but with Bill and Cowboy outside and George in his arms he didn’t mind.

 

“I’m gettin’ clean,” George stated, thumb rubbing small circles over his chest. “With or without you, Joe.”

 

Joe nodded and cupped the back of his head.

 

“You gonna’ stick around this time or is is this the last time you touch me?” George asked, steel underlying his words. It broke Joe’s heart but he could feel the rigid muscle, the sincere threat underneath it all. It was a demand he would support and they would work together to make something of whatever was left between them. The insecurities on both sides would have to be laid to rest. They had a long road ahead of them and this was the first step.

 

“I’m here. Not goin’ anywhere, Georgie.”

 

o0o0o0o

 

David couldn’t open his eyes but he could feel the hand on his brow. Everything was thick and humid and every breath was an effort. He couldn’t remember where he was or how he’d got there but he was too exhausted to fight. He’d never felt so tired, so weary...it was so easy to slip under but something was telling him to fight.

 

“You’re alright, David. Just a little gas to put you under,” a smooth voice whispered near his ear. “You’re safe for now.”

 

David leaned into the touch at his brow and started to sink under.

 

“We’ll keep you comfortable until your next game.”


End file.
